


Parallax

by supermagicalshounen



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Control Issues, Dialogue Heavy, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Dethklok, Slight Internalized Homophobia, Unhealthy Relationships, a broken marriage out of ten, at least dethklok finalized as we know it in canon, hints of sexual content but nothing explicit, magnus needs to go to therapy, more in depth tws at the beginning of each chapter, nickles week 2021, possible elements of domestic abuse, slow burn kind of maybe, the longest thing i've written in years, writing pickles' accent is my personal hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermagicalshounen/pseuds/supermagicalshounen
Summary: par·al·lax/ˈperəˌlaks/nounthe effect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ when viewed from different positions, e.g. through the viewfinder and the lens of a camera.---A brief snapshot of Dethklok's early existense, and the interpersonal struggles that come with it.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Magnus Hammersmith, Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Aperture

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -alcohol use

Nathan walks into their shared bedroom, taking off his shirt and tossing it aside somewhere he tells himself he’ll move it from later, but never will. He deposits himself on the roughed up mattress next to Pickles, making the smaller man bounce a little as he looks up from the magazine he’s thumbing through. 

“How’s the diva?” He asks, setting it aside. Nathan sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“Passed out. I managed to get him to his room and on his side, but…” another sigh weaves its way through him. “I don’t know, Pickles. I’m worried about him.”

“Yeah. I don’t blame ya. You guys’ve known each other a lot longer’n I’ve been around.” He moves closer to the other man, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” The word is hollow as it leaves Nathan’s mouth. He’s not sure about much of anything anymore. 

“I mean it.” Pickles tries to soothe him yet again, squeezing his bicep in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “He’s gotta get used to me sometime, right?”

“I guess? I don’t know… Magnus isn’t usually like this. I’ve never seen him this much of a wreck before.”

“How d’ya mean?”

“I was helping him to his room and he kept muttering about chemistry and about us kicking him to the curb… I think he’s scared that we secretly think we’re better without him.”

“He’s gotta know that’s not true. He’s great at guitar! It’s not like I can do that and drums at the same time, anyway.”

“I know. I just… don’t know how to tell him I know he’s feeling insecure. He gets so defensive. Even if I’m just trying to help. Sometimes it’s like talking to a brick wall, I swear to God…”

“Yeah. I get it.” Pickles leans against him, sighing. “He’s hardheaded as fuck. But if there’s anyone with a shot at gettin’ through to him, it’s you. If I tried, I’d end up in the hospital.” He snickers. Nathan makes a noise of acknowledgement. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He sighs in frustration, covering his face with his hands again and shrugging. “I don’t know! I don’t know how to help him, man. It’s like he’s already decided we don’t want him.”

“Sometimes people don’t always wanna be helped. It’s a tough pill t’swallow, but… Ya can’t help everyone all the time, Nate.”

“But I want to! I don’t wanna lose him. He’s the first real friend I’ve ever had… Before we met, nobody ever _really_ understood me. That sounds so fucking dumb and cliche, but like… it’s true.”

“Nah, I get it. And I’m not sayin’ ya shouldn’t make an effort, but he might not be too receptive. An’ that’s not your fault.”

There’s a breadth of silence between them. Nathan lowers his hands and Pickles can see in the dim light that his eyes are full of tears. He bites his lip. Seeing Nathan like this hurts. He’s normally so calm and collected, but still has that enthusiasm that drew him in in the first place. 

“C’mere.” Pickles says, maneuvering Nathan so lay on his side, head in the drummer's lap. “It’ll be okay.You’ll see.” He pets Nathan’s smooth, soft hair gently. “We’re all gonna patch shit up and be a band, and we’re gonna kick ass. Just you wait.” He feels the distinct warm wetness of tears on his leg. He doesn’t mention it to Nathan; just keeps stroking his hair soothingly. They sit in silence like that for a while, and Pickles can tell when the tears stop and Nathan’s breathing evens out to a slow, steady pace that he’s fallen asleep. He lays back, not caring that his legs will probably have gone numb by the time the sun rises. They sleep in their strange overlapping L formation, not noticing when the door opens sometime in the night for only a moment, and then closes again as if it had never been disturbed at all. 

***

“Y’ever think I should just… quit?” Pickles asks one night, chasing his words with a shot. 

“What?” Nathan turns to his bandmate, blindsided by the idea.

“Like… Maybe shit’d sort itself out if I left. With you n’ Magnus, I mean.”

“Pickles…”

“Oh, c’mahn. I know he hates me. That’s not gonna change. If I left, you two’d get back on good terms, and everything’d be cool again.” He picks up a slice of lime from the bowl on the coffee table, absentmindedly sucking on it for a moment. “Happily ever after fer Dethklok.”

“We don’t want you to leave.”

“Pfft. You might not, but Magnus does.” He snorts, making a face as the sour taste of the fruit really hits him. “And I won’t be mad if you guys decide to kick me out. Promise. I can find a new gig easy-peasy. Y’don’t need me.”

“Don’t say that.” Nathan’s tone is suddenly serious, reaching over to take the drummer’s hand. “We want you with us. _I_ want you with us. You’re my friend, and you’re Magnus’ too whether he likes it for not. We’re sticking together. Nobody’s getting kicked out. We just… all have to find a way to make it work.”

“Yer such an idealist.” Pickles gives him a drunken smile. “It’s sweet.”

“I don’t even know what that means. But I’m not letting you go.” Nathan meets his eyes, squeezing his hand tighter. “You belong here. You belong in Dethklok. I can feel it.”

“Another one’a yer psychic premonitions?” He chuckles, pouring another shot one-handed. It’s expertly done, despite how drunk he is. 

“It’s not…” Nathan sighs, flustered, and lets go of him. “Don’t call it that. It’s lame.”

“I’m just messin’ with ya, dood.” He pushes the shot glass Nathan’s way, smirking. “‘Sides, I think it’s cool that yer psychic.”

“I’m not.” Nathan rolls his eyes, doing his shot and wincing. “I just have weird dreams sometimes.”

“Weird dreams that tell ya shit.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Oh yeah, we were havin’ a real riveting talk before this.” Pickles pours another shot for himself. 

“I’m serious.” Nathan sighs. Pickles downs his alcohol without so much as blinking. 

“An’ I’m Pickles.” He gives him that signature crooked grin. Nathan rolls his eyes, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Okay. Fine. I get it. Last time I try to have a conversation about something serious with you.”

“Nooooo, don’t be like that!” Pickles laughs, moving in close and throwing his arms around the taller man. “‘M sorry for bein’ a dick. Go ahead an’ say what y’were gonna say.”

“I was _gonna_ say that you shouldn’t think about leaving.” Nathan turns to him, his heart fluttering slightly as his eyes meet Pickles’. “I mean, unless you really want to. But I don’t think you do.”

“Nah.” Pickles smiles lazily. “Yer right. As much of a nightmare as Magnus can be... I still care about both of ya.” He rests his forehead on Nathan’s shoulder, both of them silent. They stay like that for a while, and just as Nathan opens his mouth to say something else, they hear the telltale sound of keys jingling as the door unlocks. They leap apart, Pickles kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, both of them doing their best to look casual as Magnus enters. 

“Hey,” Nathan greets.

“Hey,” Magnus replies dryly, setting his keys down on the table by the door. 

“Hey,” Pickles adds. 

“Hi.” Magnus is more stiff with his second greeting, just like he always is. At least he’s greeting him today though. 

“How was work?” Nathan asks, eternally the peacekeeper. 

“Shit.” Magnus chuckles, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. “Same as always.”

“Figures. You wanna come drink with us?” He extends a tentative invitation into their moment. Magnus opens his bottle of water, drinking slowly as he processes the question. 

“We got limes an’ everything! Real swanky shit.” Pickles holds up the bowl as if the promise of limes with their shots is any kind of a draw. Magnus thinks. He thinks until he finishes half of the water, and then sets it down. 

“Not tonight.” He says, as if there will ever be a night that he accepts their invitation. Nathan still holds onto the hope that there will be. “I’m working on something new. You guys have fun though.” 

And just like that, he disappears into his dark room, the door locking with a _click_ , leaving the other two members of Dethklok staring at the Rammstein poster that stands as the barrier between him and the rest of the world. A heavy feeling settles over the room as the faint sounds of guitar creep under the door and nestles into every crack and crevice of the cheap apartment. 

“...Hey, maybe tomorrow.” Pickles puts a hand on Nathan’s back, giving him a melancholy smile. 

“Yeah.” Nathan picks up the bottle on the table and pours himself another shot. “Maybe tomorrow.”


	2. Timer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> presidential alert: the girls are FIGHTING!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings for this chapter, but let me know if there are any you think should be added!

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Magnus, you haven’t heard him. This guy is  _ amazing _ .”

“I don’t care if he’s Jimi fucking Hendrix. We do not need a second guitarist in here fucking up our dynamic even more than-!”

“Oh Jesus Christ Magnus, don’t do this again.”

“Do  _ what _ ?” He’s insulted at even the idea that he’s in the wrong. Nathan sighs. 

“This! Fucking pinning everything on Pickles like you  _ always do _ !”

“I’m just telling you how I feel.” He crosses his arms, looking away.

“Look, this isn’t about him, okay? Please don’t turn this into a fight. I’m just trying to tell you that even though we sound good now, with this guy on board we would sound even better!”

“So I’m not enough. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Fucking- NO! That’s not what I’m saying at all! It’s not like we’re trying to kick you out! This guy would just be a good addition! At least hear us out on this. He can do rhythm if you want to stay lead. Okay? Just listen to a little bit of this demo and tell me what you think.”

“Fine.”

Magnus ended up begrudgingly impressed, and within the week they’d set up a meeting with Skwisgaar Skwigelf, the guitarist in question. The only issue left was deciding what song to bring with them to show off their talent. As much as they fought, they still sounded damn promising at the end of the day. Magnus of course had already decided on his own. 

“Obviously we’re bringing ‘The Hammer’.” He says, placing a small tape on the coffee table. 

“Dude, what?”

“It’s my masterpiece. He won’t be able to say no to it.”

“It’s not done.”

“None of our songs are  _ done… _ ”

“Yeah, but you have like, what? The chorus and the intro? It’s still basically just a poem at this point.”

“Fuck you, ‘it’s just a poem’! You know how hard I’ve been working on this!”

“I know. And we all think it’s great. But it’s so far from done that it’s not worth bringing. I’m not trying to insult you, because I think it’s off to a great start. But we need to pick something more fleshed out.” Nathan tries as always to keep him calm, putting a hand on his arm. Pickles stays silent, knowing better than to try and add anything. He’s learned by now that he’s a match and Magnus is a gallon of lighter fluid.

He seems to acquiesce, at least as much as Magnus can bring himself to. He snatches the tape off of the table and pockets it. 

“Fine. What do you suggest we bring, smartass?” He huffs. 

“Maybe ‘Super Hell’?” Pickles suggests quietly. “It’s got the most room for extra guitar.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“Of course it is…” Magnus grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

***

Skwisgaar Skwigelf sits across a table at a semi-cheap buffet restaurant, headphones on as Magnus, Nathan, and Pickles watch him listen to their demo tape from the other side. His eyes are closed, and his fingers move with purpose on the table, as if he’s imagining it’s a guitar. When the song is finished, he takes off the headphones and hands the Walkman to Pickles. He regards all three of them before he speaks. 

“It’s good.” He says, “Nots great, but good.” Despite the backhandedness of his compliment, Pickles looks absolutely ecstatic. 

“So,” Magnus chimes in, trying to keep the other two from making them look so starstruck, “Is that a yes or a no?”

“It ams an ‘I needs time to thinks abouts it.’” Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow slightly in Magnus’ direction, and he takes a sip of his cheap coffee. “I calls you when I makes a decision. Gives to me your phones number.”

“Oh! Right.” Pickles grabs a pen out of his pocket and scribbles their phone number on a napkin, handing it to Skwisgaar. “Here y’go. Hopefully ya can read my handwriting.” He chuckles nervously.

“It’s fines.” Skwisgaar squints at it, but tucks it away in his pocket. “I ams leaving now.” He stands up, expression still neutral.

“So what, that’s it? No answer? You just listen to us, judge us silently, and then expect us to wait on you?”

“Magnus-”

“No, he’s being a fucking princess.” Magnus stands up, hands on the table, ready to make a scene if he feels the need.

“Dood,  _ please _ -”

“You shut the fuck up.” Magnus turns his gaze to Pickles for only a moment before locking his dark eyes on Skwisgaar once again. “Are you intimidated? Is that it? You know we’re better than you, so you don’t want us to know you’re actually chomping at the bit to join?” Skwisgaar looks him over with disinterest. Magnus continues his verbal assault. “We don’t need you, y’know? We didn’t even need Pickles, but Nathan’s such a bleeding heart, he thinks it’s all about the more the merrier. But we don’t fucking need you. So you can give us an answer now, or-”

“Magnus.” Nathan’s voice is firm and gruff as he grabs the guitarist by the back of his jacket pulling him back into his seat. He gives him a ‘we’ll talk later’ look and stands up, looking at Skwisgaar apologetically. “I’m sorry, he’s just-”

“It’s fines.” Skwisgaar flips his hair haughtily, “I calls you when I makes up my minds.” He gives Nathan and Pickles a cursory nod, and Magnus a look of distaste before he leaves, blond hair trailing behind him.

“Magnus, what the hell was that? Why did you start negging him?” Pickles rubs his face tiredly, groaning into his hands. 

“I wasn’t negging anyone.” Magnus replies defensively, already bristling. “I wanted him to stop jerking us around and give us a real answer.”

“You could have done it a little nicer…” Nathan adds, trying to soften the blow as much as he can.

“Oh fuck off.” Magnus rolls his eyes, making a disgusted noise. “I don’t have to sit here and take this from you two. I’m going home.” He pulls his black denim jacket on, for once having worn a shirt underneath it for the meeting.

“Magnus, come on. Don’t do this-”

“Don’t ‘Magnus’ me.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Nathan and Pickles are stuck just watching him leave.

“...Guess I’m footin’ the bill then?”

***

Pickles spends all week practically camping out by the phone.

His nerves are firing on all cylinders, and his nails are bitten to the quick. Neither of his bandmates have ever seen him like this before. Nathan walks over to the couch and sits next to his friend, probably closer than he needs to, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t keep this up, dude. It’s not good for you.” Nathan says. Magnus stands in the kitchenette, lounging against the counter as a bag of popcorn starts to sound off in the microwave.

“Either he’s in or out. Worst he can do is say no.” He adds, reaching up behind him and getting a bowl out of the cabinet.

“ _ But, _ ” Nathan says, giving him a pointed look, “he won’t say no, because we’re awesome. We’ve got you with us, I’d say that kicks us up a few notches.”

“Yeah, but what if he does?” Pickles looks between them, frenzied panic in his eyes.

“Then we’ll be like we were before. Just fine.” Magnus shrugs. 

“He’s not gonna say no.” Nathan insists, squeezing Pickles’ shoulder. Magnus sighs, and the microwave beeps at him. He curses under his breath as the hot bag burns his finger, but he manages to get the popcorn into a bowl. Almost as soon as the last stray unpopped kernel hits the plastic with a clack, the phone rings.

A silence washes over the apartment, and despite what they’d all said just a moment ago, everyone’s blood runs cold. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t do this. Nate, it’s him. I know it is. I can’t do this.” Pickles grabs the larger man’s sleeve, hand shaking. 

“You’ve been waiting by the phone all week, and now you can’t answer it?” Nathan chuckles. “Pickles, come on. It might not even be him.”

“I can answer it if you want.” Magnus walks in, with his half-assed lunch in his arms.

“No.” Nathan and Pickles say at the same time. The latter takes a breath.

“No, I suggested him. I should do this.” Pickles picks up the phone before he loses his nerve, all eyes on him. “Hello?” His eyes widen, and Magnus and Nathan know who’s on the other end in an instant. Magnus exchanges a glance with Nathan, finally allowing himself to look unsure.

Time seems to stand still as Pickles listens to the other man talk, and finally he breaks into a frantic grin that makes Nathan’s heart soar.

“Really? Y’are?” Pickles says, leg bouncing as he tries to contain his excitement. “Awesome, man! Promise y’won’t be disappointed! Yeah, we can do Saturday! Here, lemme give you the address of where we practice…” Pickles lists off the address, and with a few final words, he hangs up. Nathan and Magnus look at him, unsure and silent. “HE’S FUCKIN’ IN, GUYS!” Pickles cries. Nathan claps him on the back hard.

“DUDE,” he says, “NO FUCKING WAY.”

“Nice.” Magnus supplies, trying to hide his excitement. Despite all his pushback, he really thinks Skwisgaar might be just the thing to bring their music to the forefront of the industry. His talent is undeniable.

Pickles, in his haze of jubilation, grabs Nathan’s face and kisses him hard. The larger man looks stunned, even if it’s just for a second, and his heart starts to beat harder and faster. He hardly has time to process the feeling of lips on his before Pickles jumps up, grabbing Magnus by his beard and pulling him down into a celebratory kiss as well. Magnus grunts, more upset about his popcorn spilling a little than he is at Pickles kissing him. The shorter man pulls away with an audible noise.

“I’m gettin’ us booze. This calls for a celebration!” He grabs his keys and wallet and runs to the door, pausing. “Fuck it, I’m gettin’ cocaine too. It’s a special occasion, baby! Be back later!” and with that, he’s out of the door, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly on the stairs to the parking lot. 

“Something’s wrong with that guy.” Magnus huffs, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Yeah…” Nathan agrees, though he doesn’t really know what Magnus said. He reaches up, fingers brushing over his lips and feeling the faint ghost of generic chapstick there. “ _ Yeah… _ ”


	3. Polarize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -drug use (cocaine) and drug mention (heroin)  
> -sexual elements  
> -blood and blood kink

“C’mon, it’s not even that hard.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to! It’s just…” Nathan stares down the line of white powder in front of him on the kitchen counter, a sliced off plastic takeout straw in hand. 

“Y’want one of us t’go first and show ya?” Pickles asks, putting a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. 

“Maybe…” he mumbles, his face warm. 

“No problem!” Pickles assures him. “Mags, y’mind if I go first?”

“Don’t call me that. And no, go ahead.” Magnus crosses his arms, both he and Nathan watching as Pickles lines up his straw and snorts the cocaine cleanly from end to end. He almost makes it look like an art form. 

“There! Trick is to do it all at once, because it sucks if ya gotta come back and finish it while yer nose burns.” He shrugs, rubbing his nose and tossing his straw into the trash. “Y’wanna try it now?” Nathan nods, and watches as Pickles lines some up for him once again. It’s a small line, which he’s thankful for. He readies his straw, and takes a shaky breath. 

“You sure you wanna do it, Bud?” Magnus asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You don’t have to.” Nathan shakes his head. 

“I wanna.” He says, determination in his voice. He lines his straw up with one end, and mentally tells himself not to be a pussy before snorting it. 

He manages to do the whole thing, and immediately drops his straw and starts coughing. Pickles and Magnus laugh sympathetically, the former putting a hand on Nathan’s back and patting it. 

“Sorry, dood. Always burns the first few times before y’get used to it.” 

“‘S fine…” Nathan lies through coughs and sniffles. His nose and throat burn so bad, but he’s trying to play it cool. 

“Okay, I’m gonna get you some water.” Magnus says, opening the fridge and handing Nathan a bottle, which he takes with silent gratitude before downing a generous amount. “You two go sit, I’ll keep an eye on you before I do any.” Magnus says putting his hair up in a loose ponytail. 

Nathan and Pickles sit on the couch, just talking for a while as Magnus puts on some music for the three of them to listen to. Nathan’s face starts to go numb, and his tongue feels slow and stupid. He turns to just listening to Pickles talk about something, and it doesn’t hit him until a few minutes later that he might be high. 

“Dude, yer pupils are huge.” Pickles laughs. The sound is suddenly the best thing Nathan’s ever heard, and he’s overwhelmed with the urge to tell him so. But as he opens his mouth, he’s reminded of his numb, heavy tongue, and closes it again. 

“You feeling okay, Nate?” Magnus asks, a hand drifting to his shoulder. Nathan looks at him and nods eagerly. 

Within the next few minutes, the coke has hit Pickles too, and he’s up and about, pacing as he tells a story about something Nathan isn’t paying attention to. He’s too busy watching Magnus as he lines up his own coke, satisfied that the two of them are doing well on their own highs, and snorts it almost as gracefully as Pickles. He straightens up and rubs his nose, noticing Nathan looking at him and giving him a barely visible smile. 

For the first time in a while, things feel… right again. 

***

“I gotta piss.” Pickles announces, standing up from his seat to the left of Nathan on the couch. He walks to the bathroom, and as the door closes behind him, Magnus turns to Nathan. 

“This is nice.” He says. “You’re doing really well for your first time.” Nathan feels a pleasant tingle run up his spine at the praise. 

“Thanks. It feels nice.”

“Yeah. I hear heroin’s better. Like a full body orgasm.” Magnus says, looking thoughtful. 

“Damn, isn’t that crazy addictive though?”

“Yeah, but… I’d try it. Just once to see what it’s like.” Magnus says, shrugging. “I dunno. Maybe that’s just me. Anyway-” he cuts himself off, looking at Nathan and squinting. 

“What?”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

“Huh? Oh, shit. Is it?”

“Yeah,” Magnus says, reaching over and rubbing his thumb under Nathan’s nose, smearing warm wetness there and pulling his hand away to show him the blood on his thumb. “See?”

“Oh.” Nathan isn’t sure what else to say, and he watches as Magnus examines the blood on his thumb. His eyes flick back up to Nathan, and, rather unexpectedly, he licks it off. 

Silence passes between them, and Nathan is only brought out of it when he feels the distinct trickle of warmth run down over his lip. He reaches for a tissue, but Magnus grabs his wrist to stop him, and moves in closer, eyes on Nathan’s lips. Blood dribbles down his mouth and onto his chin. 

Magnus closes the distance between them and kisses him, like it’s something he’s been waiting an eternity to do. Which is stupid. He and Nathan have kissed before. They’ve done more than that even. But it’s been a long time, and this feels… different. 

Nathan shivers and closes his eyes, feeling Magnus’ mouth open against his, tongue running over his lower lip to catch more of his nosebleed. Nathan starts to open his mouth to return the kiss, but Magnus holds his chin in his free hand, shaking his head. 

“Hold still.” He says, and Nathan obeys. Magnus’ tongue runs along his upper lip, and then higher. Under his nose where the blood drips down, sloppily cleaning it up. Nathan feels another shudder run through him, and once Magnus has his fill, moves in to kiss Nathan for real. Their tongues press together, and Nathan tastes his own blood. His heart is beating hard, threatening to explode in his chest, and he moans quietly into Magnus’ mouth. 

“Holy shit.” Pickles’ incredulous voice surprises them, and they move apart, looking stunned. “I leave for like five seconds an’ I miss so much.” He chuckles. “Well jeez, don’t stop on my account. I was enjoyin’ the show.”

Magnus huffs, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. Nathan gets the feeling they’re done here, and his heart sinks a little. 

“The only reason I’m not knocking you the fuck out is because you won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” Magnus announces, standing up. 

“Aw, c’mon, Mags...” Pickles steps forward, emboldened partially by the cocaine and partially by having an excuse to fluster him, “Don’t be mean like that! Let’s kiss an’ make up...” he grins smugly, wrapping his arms around Magnus’ shoulders. Nathan feels his heart in his throat. This will likely not end well. 

“If you don’t get off me right the fuck now, I am going to break your twiggy ass in half.”

“Jeez, pot callin’ the kettle black much?” Pickles snorts, squeezing Magnus’ thin arm, but still letting go of him and stepping away. “But fine. Have it yer way.”

“ _ Thanks _ . And stop calling me Mags.” Magnus shoves Pickles as he walks past, despite the fact that he’s already enough out of his way. He disappears into his room, and the celebratory air to their evening seems to shrivel up and die as the door closes. Pickles sits down next to Nathan where Magnus had been. 

“Well, that was a fuckin’ downer.”

“Why did you antagonize him like that?” Nathan sighs. 

“‘Cause he’s cute when he’s all flustered.” He moves closer to Nathan, playing with a strand of his hair, twirling it around his finger. “Not as cute as you are, though.” He tugs gently on Nathan’s hair, giving him that signature cocky smirk. 

“Pickles…” Nathan breathes, trying as best he can, to stay serious. 

“Nate’n…” Pickles looks at him, moving closer again. Their thighs are touching now. Silence passes between them, and they communicate with their eyes what words can’t say. At least until Pickles moves, climbing onto Nathan’s lap and straddling him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

“Ya gotta nosebleed.” He announced. 

“Yeah, I know.” Nathan fumbles, unsure where to put his hands, finally deciding to put them on his thighs. Pickles brings one of his own up to Nathan’s cheek, stroking it soothingly. 

“Aw, poor baby… Did mean ol’ Magnus leave ya all alone with a bloody nose~?” He practically coos. Nathan feels goosebumps rise on his arms. “Don’t worry… I’m here to take care of ya…” Pickles leans in and kisses him, open-mouthed and eager. Nathan returns it, his hands settling more firmly on Pickles’ thighs and squeezing. He feels his heart start to beat hard again like it’s going to explode, and when Pickles sucks on his tongue, he feels his stomach lurch in the most delicious way possible. 


	4. Negative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one gets kind of heavy. just a heads up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -slight sexual elements  
> -verbal abuse  
> -possessiveness  
> -emotional manipulation  
> -slight violence  
> -drug/alcohol mentions  
> -possible elements of domestic abuse

When Nathan wakes up the morning after their celebratory binge, he feels arms around him. He turns to see Pickles, sleeping next to him, drool on the corner of his mouth. 

“Ugh… Pickles…?” Nathan groans, his head pounding. Pickles makes a small snort as he wakes up, messy red hair sticking out at even more odd angles than usual. 

“Mhm…?” The drummer responds, blinking slowly to adjust his eyes to the light. 

“Just making sure you’re okay. My head is killing me.” Nathan sighs, sitting up slowly. Pickles continues to lay there, but looks up at him. 

“Yeah, prob’ly from the coke.” He chuckles, still sounding tired despite the fact that, from what Nathan saw their clock say, they’d slept until noon. “You’ll feel better in a lil bit. Y’just need some water.” Pickles sits up, stretching and yawning, his back cracking loudly.

He and Nathan find Magnus already in the kitchenette, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand. He gestures to the coffee maker, a half-full pot on the warmer. His face is neutral, and Nathan hopes there aren’t any hard or weird feelings about last night.

“Coffee.” He announces, taking a sip of his own. Pickles nods.

“Yeah. Thanks.” The shorter man pours himself a mug and turns to Nathan, “You want any?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and downs almost the whole thing fervently in one go, some of it dribbling down his chin and neck, onto his chest. He sets it down, taking a large breath. “Yeah, that’s better already.”

“You sleep okay?” Magnus asks hardly looking up from his cup as Pickles pours copious amounts of creamer and sugar into his own drink.

“Eh. More or less. About as well as I could once it wore off.” Nathan replies.

“Yeah, that’ll happen for the next few days probably. The comedown sucks.” Magnus takes another sip of his coffee. “I’m off work today, thank God. Maybe we can work on ‘The Hammer’. I have some new lyrics I want your input on.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Nathan gives him a smile, and Pickles finishes stirring his coffee, setting his spoon into the overfull sink with a clink.

“I should probably go grocery shoppin’ today.” He sighs, walking over to the bulletin board hung on the dividing wall between the kitchenette and living room. At the very top of the frame are stickers that spell out ‘DREAM BOARD’ in obnoxious bubble letters. The board itself couldn’t be more different than the name and title would suggest, however. Stickers, flyers, even small posters and concert tickets clutter it, along with a few polaroids Pickles insisted on taking and putting up to commemorate special events in their lives. The one dead center is a picture of all three of them the day Pickles moved in, and in it even Magnus is smiling. Pickles stands with his arms around him and Nathan, and they all look happy. It’s a fond memory, inscribed on the bottom in Pickles’ handwriting: ‘Moving day!’ He ignores the mementos for now, and goes for the notepad near the bottom right corner, labelled ‘Groceries’ at the top. He takes the pen on the side of the board, and uncaps it.

“We need anything else?” He asks, looking over the list.

“Uhhhh… Water bottles.” Nathan says, checking the fridge. Pickles writes it down, nodding.

“Gotcha, gotcha. Anything else? Magnus?”

“I think we’re about out of coffee. And get something for dinner tonight while you’re there. Just like, some TV dinners or something.”

“Will do, chief.” Pickles finishes writing, replacing the pen and ripping the sheet of paper off of its notepad. “Alright, I’ll be back. Prob’ly gonna run by the liquor store too. Any requests?”

“If you can find some halfway decent Irish cream, I’d love that.” Magnus says, holding up his coffee as if to tell him what it’s for.

“Ooh, yeah, it’s been a minute. Nate? Anything else?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just be careful.” He gives Pickles a soft smile, squeezing his arm. 

“Pfft, c’mon, I’m not still high, Nate.” The smaller man chuckles, but his eyes linger on Nathan’s for just a moment longer than is perhaps normal. “I’ll be careful. You douchebags behave yourselves while I’m gone.” He gives them a lazy salute and walks out of the apartment, door shutting behind him. Nathan hears Magnus sigh deeply, but when he turns, his expression is neutral as ever.

“You brush your teeth and whatever you need to do. I’m gonna get set up, so just come meet me in my room when you’re done.” He finishes his coffee, and sets the empty mug in the sink, walking away. The door to his bedroom remains open a crack, an invitation to let Nathan into his world.

***

“You want me to shut the door?” Nathan asks, stepping inside the older man’s room.

“I don’t care.” Magnus waits for him to get fully inside, letting the door swing as it wants behind him, and looks up, giving Nathan the most genuine smile he’s seen from Magnus in ages. “Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

“Yeah.” Nathan returns the gesture, sitting down next to Magnus on his bed. “Been a while since I’ve even been in here. I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Oh yeah, added a whole two posters since you were last here.” Magnus chuckles, a rare sound from him these days. Nathan feels a lack of tension in his body that he hadn’t even known he was carrying. He hasn’t seen this side of Magnus in… well, he doesn’t even know how long anymore. He reaches over, tentatively taking Magnus’ hand in his.

“Hey… I’m really glad to see you like this.” He says, allowing himself to be vulnerable. “Like, in your element again. I missed it.” Magnus looks at his hand, keeping his eyes from meeting Nathan’s.

“Yeah. Well, I missed hanging out with you one-on-one. You’re the only one who really gets what I’m trying to do. My vision or whatever.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry if I’ve been spending too much time with Pickles lately.” Nathan rubs the back of his neck, his chest feeling weighed down suddenly. “I wish you’d try and get along with him more, so we can all hang out together.

“Yeah, well… He should try and not piss me off so much.” Magnus’ fingers run over his guitar, fingers pressing against strings.

“We try and include you in shit. Last night was fun, all of us getting high together.” He conveniently leaves out the making out part, unsure if Magnus remembers it like him, or if it’s off limits to talk about like all their other… moments.

“Fun until he decided to antagonize me.”

“He was just joking. You know how he is.”

“ _ Do _ I?” Magnus finally looks at Nathan, a coldness in his dark eyes. “Because all I really know is that all he’s done since he moved in is just… try and eat up all your time.”

“I mean, you can hang out  _ with _ us man. Nobody makes you hole yourself up in here. We want to include you in shit.”

“Some people just don’t get along, Nathan.”

“You haven’t even  _ tried  _ to get along with him, though!” Desperation creeps into Nathan’s voice. “I don’t get it. You get so upset about being lonely, you’ve talked to me about how you hate being alone, and yet you just keep excluding yourself!”

Silence. Nathan can practically see the walls go up again.

“Are you here to psychoanalyze me, or are we gonna go over songs?” He replies, eyes back on his guitar. Nathan feels that weight return to his shoulders.

“Sorry. Go ahead and show me what you wanted to show me.”

***

He’s not sure how or when things got to this point.

All he knows is that somewhere along the way, their sharing of lyrics and ideas had given way to tense atmosphere, and bodies and lips had crashed together and chests had begun to heave with ardent desperation.

Nathan lays on the mattress, thin but surprisingly strong hands on his shoulders, pressing him down. Lips and tongue and teeth collide with his, and rough curls brush his cheek. He wonders briefly if this is all Magnus had planned, but he knows that’s not true. Magnus is a creature of impulse; he always has been. He thinks in emotional outbursts, never fixating long enough on a thought to let it develop into a true plan. Nathan likes that about him, he always has.

Magnus’ hands move up to cup his face, and he kisses him harder, rougher. There’s desperation behind it. Longing. Need. Nathan kisses back, trying to tell Magnus with his lips what he can’t with his words. That as gay as it is to feel it, and as gay as it is to be making out with him, none of that really matters, and he cares about him. Suddenly, Magnus pulls away, breathing ragged. He grabs Nathan’s jaw, eyes meeting his with intensity.

“Have you fucked him?”

The question catches Nathan entirely off guard, and all he can offer is a confused expression before he speaks.

“What?”

“Pickles.” Magnus says, gaze remaining solid. “Have you fucked him?”

“Wh-No!” Nathan’s face reddens at the accusation. “Why would it matter if I did?”

“You haven’t even known him a fucking year…” Magnus chuckles darkly, “And you’re already sharing a goddamn room with him. Sharing a fucking bed. Doing everything together. Making out when you think I won’t see…” He rubs his face, smiling with no humor in it whatsoever. “And you haven’t even fucked?” His eyes are wild, even in the darkness, and Nathan feels a chill run up his spine.

“I… Are you jealous?” He asks incredulously. Magnus laughs now, a cruelness to the sound.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking stupid. This isn’t about  _ me _ , you fucking idiot.” He looks at Nathan again, gaze steely, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Nathan opens his mouth to reply, but the words stick in his throat. He doesn’t know how to answer that question. He doesn’t know how to respond to any of this. He’s never seen Magnus like this before, and it’s slightly scary. The older man looks into his eyes, through him, and reaches down to grab his throat. “Tell me.”

“Magnus, it’s like you said. I haven’t even known him a year-”

“Don’t fucking  _ lie _ to me!” Magnus cries, choking him harder. “Just fucking tell me. Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me…” His voice wavers slightly with emotion, his eyes blown wide as he chokes Nathan, shaking him up and down slightly. “You’re gonna fucking leave me. You’re gonna run off with him and just ditch me for this new guitarist. You’re gonna let me fucking die in an alley somewhere with a goddamn hypodermic needle sticking out of my arm, aren’t you? That’s what you want, right? You want me gone? So you can have your little happily ever fucking after with him?”

“Magnus, stop!” Nathan cries, grabbing his arms to wrench them off of his throat. Magnus doesn’t stop talking, even as Nathan sits up, his wrists in his hands. His voice is frenzied and panicked, as if years of worries are all rushing to the surface at once.

“You love him, you idiot! Anybody can see that! You love him and you’re going to fucking kick me to the curb the second I let my guard down! Act like I never existed-!”

“STOP!” Nathan does the only thing he can think of to snap him out of it, and wrenches him forward, sending Magnus flying to the floor with an audible THUD. The guitarist lets out an unnerving gasp, trying to pull air back into his lungs. Nathan sits on the edge of his bed, feeling just as stunned, still trying to process what just happened. Once Magnus catches his breath, he sits up, hand on his chest as he tries to get his breathing back in rhythm.

“Fuck…” He gasps, “Fuck, what did I do…” His eyes are still wide, but in a whole new way. “Jesus, did I really…? Fuck, Nathan, I’m so sorry…” He looks up at him, hurt and self-loathing in his eyes.

“I-It’s okay. Are you-?”

“I have to go.” Magnus blurts, standing up and running out of his room and the apartment before Nathan can even ask him if he’s alright or what that was. The door shuts behind him, and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room as Nathan realizes he’s alone. He puts his face in his hands, trying to make sense of the mess his life has become. Trying to convince himself that they’ll be able to pull themselves together by Saturday so they don’t scare off Skwisgaar.

He doesn’t see Magnus for the rest of the day, or at all that night. Doesn’t know where he went. Has no way of knowing if he’s alright or what he’s doing. He and Pickles wait up until they fall asleep on the couch together restlessly.

Magnus walks into the apartment silently close to sunrise. Nathan and Pickles don’t wake up, and he’s grateful for it as he retires to his room and locks the door. His walls up around him are as high as ever, a self-made cage for the monster he thinks he’s becoming.


	5. Golden Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guys will be like "i know a place" then take you to a secret lake spot and show you the fish they can talk to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -pickles makes a s*icide joke and a joke about his weight, it's not serious at all though  
> -they each have a beer by the lake but nobody drives drunk

“Nate…? Nate?”

Nathan wakes up to someone gently shaking him, and his eyes open to see Pickles in front of him. 

“Mgh… hey… What time is it?” He asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Uh, ‘bout 10 AM. Magnus is back.” This catches Nathan’s attention, and he sits up, wide awake now. 

“Is he okay? Where’d he go? What-?” 

“I dunno. He’s in his room, and the door’s locked. But listen.” Nathan does as he’s told, and though the sound is very faint, he can hear the distinct noise of electric guitar coming from Magnus’ room. That alone makes him sigh in relief, knowing he’s well enough to play guitar. Even if it’s probably in anger, considering it’s a song Nathan recognizes. ‘The Hammer’. 

“God… fuck, I’m glad he’s okay…”

“Yeah, me too.” Pickles looks genuinely relieved as well, “Don’t suppose yer gonna tell me what it is you two were fightin’ about that made him run off, huh?”

“No, it’s… it’s personal. I’d feel bad telling you behind his back.”

“Fair enough.” Pickles shrugs, “Hey, d’ya wanna get outta the house today? The vibes here suck, an’ you know how he is about needin’ space when he’s upset. Maybe he’ll work it out better without us here? I dunno. Y’can ask him if ya want. Can’t promise he’ll answer, but you’ve got a better shot’n me of gettin’ anything outta him.” 

“Yeah… yeah, maybe so.” Nathan sighs, thinking that’s actually not a half bad idea. Maybe they’re all going a little stir crazy being in the apartment so much together. 

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna make some coffee. You do whatever y’need to do.” Pickles pats his shoulder and walks into the kitchenette. 

Nathan walks to Magnus’ room, hesitating before he knocks gently on the door. The guitar stops, but Magnus doesn’t say anything. 

“Hey Magnus… You okay?”

Silence. He expected as much. 

“Uh… can I come in?”

“No.” It’s not much, but it’s better than silence. Just hearing Magnus’ voice sends another wave of relief through him. 

“Okay… well uh, I have work.” He lies. He feels terrible doing it, but he knows telling him he’s going to get out of the house with Pickles will only make him feel worse. “And Pickles has shit to do. So we’re gonna be out of your hair today. Is… is that okay?”

“I don’t care.”

“I can call in sick if you want me to,” it’s pathetic of him to say that. But he wants Magnus to know he’ll stay here with him if he really wants. 

“Go to fucking work, dumbass. We have rent to pay. I don’t need a babysitter.” Magnus huffs, and his guitar starts up again, a little louder this time, which means the conversation is over. 

“Okay,” he says anyway, “see you later.” The volume goes up in response, and Nathan sighs as he walks back to the living room. He’s greeted by Pickles pushing a mug into his hands. 

“Here. You need it.” He says, giving him a gentle smile. Nathan takes the mug gratefully, sipping it and tasting something different about it. 

“What’d you do to this?”

“Got some hot chocolate packets at the store yesterday. Mixed one in. Whaddaya think?”

“It’s good. Really good. Thank you.” Nathan finds himself more touched by the fact Pickles thought to surprise him with something kind like that. Pickles gives him a grin that makes his heart flutter, and Magnus’ words from yesterday echo in his mind. 

_ You’re in love with him. _

Nathan pushes the thoughts aside as he and Pickles sit in front of their boxy, rabbit-eared TV and watch the local news until it switches to old reruns of sitcoms from the 60s. 

“God, didya see the fuckin’ tie on Grady today?” Pickles laughs as he gets up to put his mug away. “Looked like the fuckin’ carpet in  _ The Shinin _ ’.” He holds his hand out for Nathan’s finished mug as well. Nathan hands it to him, chuckling at his bullying of the weatherman. 

“Reminded me of those fuckin’... cocktail olives my mom loves for some reason.”

“Is that just an old person thing? ‘Cause my parents love those too.” Pickles laughs, “Speakin’ of, when’s the last time y’called yer parents?”

“Uhhhh…” Nathan tried to think, “Well they called me on my birthday, and that was in January, so…”

“Nate, it’s almost April.”

“...and?”

“Call yer fuckin’ mom soon. She’s a sweet lady. I’d give anything fer a mom like that, y’know.” 

“You’re acting like one right now with all this nagging.” Nathan chuckles, prying himself up from his seat in the beanbag on the floor. 

“I nag ‘cause I care.” Pickles says, putting his hands on his hips mockingly.

“Okay well now I’m gonna nag you. Go get dressed so we can go.” Nathan stretches, his back popping. They walk into their room, Nathan switching out his plain black tank top for his favorite Cannibal Corpse t-shirt, and putting on a pair of jeans. 

He turns around to see Pickles, back to him, wrestling on a pair of skinny jeans. He hasn’t put on a shirt yet, his back bare and facing Nathan. He can see the mist of freckles all over his shoulders, and he feels something well up within him for a moment before Pickles turns to him, and the feeling pops like a bubble. 

“D’these gimme too much of a muffin top?” Pickles asks, hands on his hips. 

“Uhhh…” Nathan looks at his waist, and while a little bit of extra weight does sit there, he still thinks it looks nice on him. “Nah, you’re fine.” He gives him a thumbs up and looks away. Pickles turns to the mirror in their room, sighing. 

“I’m gettin’ old an’ fat.” He announces to nobody in particular. 

“You are not.” Nathan snorts, sitting down to put on his boots. 

“I am. I’m gonna be 30 in December. I’m over the hill.” Pickles jokes. “Might as well just kill myself while I still have some dignity left.”

“You might look less old if you stop dressing like that and accept glam rock is dead.”

“Glam rock dies when I say it does, fucko.” Pickles picks up a shirt off the floor, one that’s not even his, and throws it on. “This good enough t’be seen in public with ya, douchebag?” He asks. Nathan turns to look. 

Pickles is wearing one of his Metallica shirts, which is obviously much too big for him. It hangs off one shoulder, exposing it along with his thin, pale neck. Nathan swallows hard. 

“You look stupid. Wear one of your own shirts.” He says, turning away before Pickles can see his face heat up. 

“I think it looks good on me. But fine, have it yer way.” Pickles whips off the shirt, tossing it at Nathan’s head. It drapes over him comically as Pickles roots around on the floor for something presentable like a pig hunting for truffles. He finally decides on something, turning to Nathan in one of his old SnB tour shirts. “Alright. Let’s go before y’find somethin’ wrong with this one too, ya harpy.”

***

“So, where to?” Pickles holds up the keys to his car, grinning crookedly. 

“Uh… I don’t know.”

Pickles unlocks the car, but hesitates. 

“Y’know what? You drive. That damn visor never actually keeps the sun outta my eyes since I’m so damn short.” He tosses Nathan the keys, which the other man catches, chuckling. Pickles hardly ever acknowledges his height, and he hates when others do. So Nathan walks around to the other side, and they both get in, buckling their seat belts. “So, where to?” Pickles asks, hiking a leg up onto the seat as Nathan starts the car.

“Uh… I’m not sure, actually. You didn’t have someplace in mind?”

“Not really, nah.”

“Well… I guess I know a place.” Nathan admits as he starts to drive. Pickles starts the radio, turning the volume down uncharacteristically low so he can hear Nathan talk.

“Yeah? Then take us there.” Pickles grins. “Where is it?”

“It’s… I mean, it’s a place I used to go when I needed to write, or think, or just… be alone, I guess? You’ll see.” Nathan looks slightly embarrassed about sharing this information, but he drives anyway. Pickles leans back in his seat, watching the city pass by and eventually give way to trees. They’re clearly going to be driving for a while, so he closes his eyes and just dozes, the sound of faint metal music and the wheels on the road lulling him into somewhat of a trance.

“You awake? We’re here.” Pickles opens his eyes, turning to Nathan. He hadn’t quite been sleeping, instead stuck in that odd state between awake and unconscious that only long drives can induce.

“Yeah, I’m up.” Pickles stretches and gets out of the car, looking around. They’re in what looks to be the middle of a clearing in some woods, with a decently sized pond (or maybe a lake? He’s not entirely sure what the difference is) that has a small dock leading a few feet out into it. “Jeez Nate, didja bring me here t’kill me?” He jokes, turning back to his friend. Nathan rolls his eyes, but grins.

“No, dumbass. I come here to like… Clear my head and shit. I wish we had a beach here, that’d be so much better. But y’know, this shit works too.” He shuts his car door, the sound reverberating through the spacious woods. For the first time in what might be years, Pickles realizes he’s not surrounded by the ambient noises of a busy city.

“It’s nice.” He says genuinely, walking over to the edge of the pond and looking into the murky water. If there’s anything living in it, he certainly can’t tell. He looks up to see Nathan already out on the edge of the dock, eyes closed and a lazy smile on his face. He looks peaceful here, the most relaxed Pickles has seen him in… well, ever.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever even brought Magnus here.” Nathan’s eyes open, and he looks slightly troubled as he mentions that.

“Well I’m flattered, Nate.” Pickles jokes, walking over to join him on the dock. “Any particular reason y’like this scummy ass pond so much?”

“Pfft. It’s less this specific pond, more like… Just water in general. I feel like I can think better around places like beaches and shit. I don’t know.” He gets down on his knees, leaning over the edge of the dock and sticking a finger in the water. Pickles kneels down to join him, and his eyes widen when a fish swims right up to Nathan’s fingertip, brushing against it. Another joins it, and then another. Nathan smiles and reaches his whole hand in, actually petting one of them.

“Dude, yer like the fish whisperer or somethin’!” Pickles exclaims in hushed awe.

“Huh?” Nathan looks at him, slightly confused. “Oh, I don’t think it’s me… I think maybe these fish are just friendly ‘cause I bring them food sometimes.” He smiles sheepishly. “Which is not very metal, so please don’t tell anyone about it. In fact, maybe just keep this whole place between us.”

“Yeah, man.” Pickles returns his smile. “I won’t snitch about yer fish god powers or whatever.” Nathan rolls his eyes again, but seems appreciative, continuing to pet the fish.

“You wanna try?” He asks suddenly, taking Pickles by surprise.

“Oh, uh… Sure.” He flounders, reaching a hand into the lukewarm pond water. Nothing happens at first, but just as he’s about to take his hand out of the water, a fish brushes up against his fingers, making Pickles jump. “Jesus! Fuck, they’re slimy…” He says, chuckling as the fish seems to decide he’s alright, running its body along his palm. It’s the strangest feeling, but it’s not unpleasant. Having a fish just approach him unafraid is oddly flattering. He looks at Nathan, smile wide. “I’m doin’ it! Holy shit, these guys are actually kinda cute…” He admits.

“Sometimes there’s turtles too, but I don’t know if they’re around today. Over on the other end is more swampy, so I see frogs there sometimes too.” Nathan explains, smiling the most genuinely he has in months. “They don’t like me as much, though. The turtles tolerate me, but the frogs are kind of… jumpy. No pun intended.”

“None taken.” Pickles snorts, standing up and shaking the water off his hand. “But for real, this is a nice place. How’d ya find it?” Nathan follows suit, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Uh… let’s see, it was a few years ago I think? I was just feeling really homesick, and I just started driving to get away from the city. And I just kind of… found some woods and walked through them until I got here. It’s weird, it’s like I knew exactly where to go somehow.”

“Yer psychic or somethin’, man. I keep tellin’ ya.” Pickles shakes his head.

“Shut up.” Nathen chuckles, walking over to a tree and kneeling down, shoving aside foliage to expose a hole in the base of it. “Anyway, I started coming here more often, and I realized it’s a pretty good place to be when I need to be alone.” He pulls something out of the hole, and stands up, holding two bottles of beer. “And it’s a pretty good place to keep emergency booze, provided no animals get to it first. But I’ve had pretty good luck with that so far.” He hands a bottle to Pickles.

“Ain’tcha gotta drive us back?” He asks, pulling out the bottle opener in his pocket (always kept on his person in case of alcohol emergencies) and popping the cap off his bottle.

“It’s just one beer. It’ll run its course before we leave.”

“Alright, but if we die on the way home, you gotta tell my parents.” Pickles tosses him the bottle opener, and Nathan laughs as he uncaps his bottle as well. He holds it up in position for a toast. Pickles does the same.

“To…” Nathan seems unsure of what they’re even toasting to.

“T’yer secret spot.” Pickles supplies, clinking their bottles together.

“Yeah, to our secret spot.” They drink in silence, sitting on the dock and looking up at the clouds in the sky as they pass. Wind rustles the leaves of the trees, and everything feels right. Better than it ever has before. Magnus is a million miles away in their minds, and they feel truly at ease. Once their beers are finished, they lay back, just talking about nothing and telling stories to make each other laugh. Pickles actually laughs so hard he snorts when Nathan tells him about the time a python got into his high school and they had to go on lockdown until animal control arrived, and Nathan turns to look at him. 

Seeing Pickles laugh so hard at something he said, his nose scrunched and tears welling up at the corners of his eyes, makes Nathan’s breath catch in his lungs for a moment. He wants to stay here forever, wants to tell Pickles exactly that, wants to open up to him all about everything that’s bothering him, but… he knows he can’t. As Pickles’ laughter winds down and the redhead turns to face Nathan as well, their eyes meet. Nathan’s thoughts all seem to come to a screeching halt as he gets stuck on the emerald green of his bandmate’s irises, the freckles spread across his nose and cheeks like stars dotting the night sky, the lines around his mouth when he smiles. He wants to say something, but no words will come. Pickles turns over on his side, reaching out and taking Nathan’s hand in his.

“Thanks fer bringin’ me here.” He says, eyes shining with sincerity, “I’m glad y’felt like ya could share it with me. I really needed this.” 

“Yeah,” is all Nathan can say at first, emotion welling up in his chest, “me too.” He turns his hand so their fingers can lace together. The wind rushes through the trees, splaying a few strands of Pickles bright red hair, for once not hairsprayed into an unmovable mass, onto his cheek. He doesn’t make any move to untangle his hand from Nathan’s to fix it though. “We should come back here sometime.” 

“I’d like that.” Pickles smiles. Nathan can’t help but return that smile. They don’t say anything else for a long time, just laying there with their hands clasped together, and eventually they close their eyes, happy just to linger in each other’s company a little while longer. Somewhere in the back of Nathan’s mind, a voice nags at him.

_ You’re in love with him. _

In the moment, he can’t bring himself to acknowledge it, and he can’t seem to remember who the voice belongs to.


	6. Flashbulb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skwisgaar joins the band, and magnus finally has someone else to bitch about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -smoking mention  
> -magnus being a dick as usual

Saturday seems to arrive before any of them are well and truly aware of it. The week they’ve had beforehand is… unorthodox, to say the least. But they’re determined today to appear as a strong unit. Whether or not that ends up happening, however, is a toss up even on the best days. 

“I’m not sitting in the fucking back.” Magnus crosses his arms indignantly, like a child pouting over shotgun rights. 

“Okay? I dunno why you wanna sit next to me so bad, but if you insist.” Pickles smirks, hitting the button to unlock the door. 

“It’s not about that. I just don’t want you two third wheeling me anymore than you already do.” Magnus shoves him aside and gets in the passenger seat, coldness in his eyes. 

Nathan sighs and shares a glance with Pickles. They come to a silent agreement to placate Magnus however they can to keep the group looking better. It’s an ability the two of them developed very early on in their friendship, something that came so easily to them it was as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Pickles shrugs and gets into the driver's seat, and Nathan climbs into the back. Once they’re all bucked, Pickles starts the drive to their practice space. 

It’s quiet; would be silent if it weren’t for the radio blasting whatever Magnus has settled on for the drive. Nathan tries several times to make idle conversation, but it all peters out into nothing. A tense mood looms over them, and it’s so palpable Nathan swears he could reach out and touch it if he tried. 

They arrive, mercifully, with no arguments. The band, or what now is 3/4ths of it, files out of the car and walks inside. Skwisgaar sits on a pile of equipment, legs propped up and fingers moving across his guitar’s strings with practiced ease. He turns to them, as if he hadn’t just heard the very loud doors open when they entered. 

“Hellos.” He says, hopping down from his makeshift throne with a notable flourish. Magnus bristles. 

“Hey!” Nathan says, giving him a smile to distract him from the veritable cloud of irritation emanating from Magnus. He holds out his hand, and Skwisgaar looks at it with some disgust before shaking it. Pickles is next, instead clapping the much taller man on the shoulder. 

“Good to have ya with us, man!” He says, grinning crookedly. Skwisgaar makes a noise of acknowledgement, and his eyes turn to Magnus. 

“I don’t believes I ever gots your names.” He says, looking the other guitarist up and down. 

“Magnus Hammersmith.” The other man replies firmly, “ _ Lead _ guitarist.” He steps forward and shakes Skwisgaar’s hand firmly, all obligation and no goodwill. 

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf. But you already knews that.” The blond smirks, not losing his cool for even a moment. Their hands break apart and Skwisgaar’s immediately go back to his guitar, picking up exactly where he left off. “Enough introsductions. We play now,  _ ja _ ?” 

“Right, right.” Nathan says, trying not to let his nerves show as they all set up, Magnus and Skwisgaar staying as far apart as possible. 

“Let’s start with this one, it’s easy.” Nathan hands Skwisgaar his Walkman, and he puts on the headphones, closing his eyes and focusing on the music. It only takes a minute before he hands them back to Nathan. 

“Alright. Gots it.” He says, flipping his hair out of the way. 

“No you don’t.” Magnus scoffs, ever defensive of the quality of the guitar parts he writes. Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow as if Magnus is issuing him a challenge, and proceeds to flawlessly play the first part of the song. 

“And thens it ams like this for the rest of the song,  _ ja _ ?” He starts in on the second half of it, and Nathan and Pickles watch with their breath held as Magnus’ jaw clenches. 

“ _ Stop _ .” He says through gritted teeth, “Fine, if you’re so fucking good, let’s get started.” Magnus adjusts the strap of his guitar and begins, leaving Pickles and Nathan to play catch-up.

As Pickles had predicted, they sound damn good with Skwisgaar. Better than they’ve ever sounded before. Even Magnus seems begrudgingly impressed with Skwisgaar’s abilities. At some point, Nathan can hear Magnus making subtle on-the-fly changes, which Skwisgaar matches perfectly as they happen. They finish their first song, and Nathan breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That sounded fuckin’ great!” Pickles comes out from behind his drums, putting a hand on Magnus’ shoulder and grinning. Magnus makes a noise that indicates he couldn’t care less about Pickles’ opinion, but he seems pleased at the compliment. 

“You writes all de guitars parts?” Skwisgaar asks Magnus, ignoring the small reprieve from their Cold War. 

“Yeah.” Magnus’ guard goes up again, unsure whether he’s about to be complimented or insulted. Skwisgaar nods knowingly, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Deys too slow.” He says putting a hand on his hip. 

“Yeah? Well I write for quality, not speed.”

“Dat just means you amen’ts confidensk enough in yours abilities to play fast.” He smirks, “You can haves both, you knows.”

“Y’know,” Magnus grins, but there’s absolutely no humor in it, “I don’t think I remember  _ asking _ you for your opinion on my writing.” Skwisgaar looks over at Nathan, unbothered. 

“This one ams not good at takings de uhhhhhh constrictive cricticisms, ams he?” 

“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here!” Magnus snaps, “And that’s not constructive criticism, you’re just being a dick!”

“I’m tellings you de truths and offerings my opinions.” Skwisgaar speaks calmly and rationally, putting his hands up to show he means no threat, “If you don’t wants me to, you can says so.” Magnus takes off his guitar, pushing it into Nathan’s hands. 

“I’m taking a smoke break.” He grumbles, slamming the door open and walking outside in a huff. 

“Uh, d’you wanna tell him he left his cigs on the table, or should I…?”

***

Skwisgaar moving in was both a blessing and a curse. 

As they all started getting closer, Skwisgaar ended up spending more nights at their apartment as they drank, wrote songs, and of course fought. Eventually half of his stuff had made its way to their apartment, so they’d collectively decided it would just be easier for the band as a whole. 

Since Nathan and Pickles shared one room, it was only logical that Skwisgaar and Magnus should share the other. Magnus wasn’t happy to give up his sacred space, but he told Nathan that if it was in the best interest of the band, he would do it. 

Pickles had told him not to act like such a martyr for accepting something he had no choice in. Magnus had told him to shut his goddamn mouth. 

So now Skwisgaar was part of their lives, and with him came another tacky Polaroid added onto the dream board of the day he moved in. A photo that Pickles was currently re-pinning to the bulletin board after Skwisgaar’s latest diva episode. He seemed to be more prone to those than Magnus somehow. 

“So, I’m guessing he’s decided not to leave the band?” Nathan chuckles, looking up from his notebook. 

“Yeah, I guess he took pity on us or somethin’. Truly, we don’t deserve such a merciful God.” Pickles replies with a snort-laugh.

“Oh hey, while you’re over there, pin this up.” Nathan holds something out, and Pickles takes it in his hands. 

“When’d you take up photography?” Pickles asks, turning over the picture in his hands to see if there’s anything written on the back. 

“I got a disposable camera. Figured some pictures of the pond and shit might look nice up there.” Nathan shrugs, “That’s the best one I got. I’m not as good at it as you are.” He admits. 

“Nah, it’s nice.” Pickles smiles, looking at the way the sunlight streams through the foliage and shines down on the water. “How’re ya gonna explain this to the others, though?”

“Eh, I’ll tell them it’s from a hunting trip with my dad or something. I doubt they’ll care enough to ask, though.” Pickles nods and pins the photo up next to the others, stepping back and looking at it, hands on his hips. 

“Yeah, it looks good there. Next time we go, I’m bringin’ my camera so we can get some pictures for just the two of us.” He turns to Nathan and gives him that crooked optimistic grin that makes him all melty inside. 

“That’s probably a good idea. But you’re paying me for gas this time. I can’t keep driving you there for free, y’know.”

“Nah, yer gettin’ paid in pictures. And in gettin’ t’spend time with yers truly.” Pickles smirks, and then takes a quick look around to make sure they’re alone before leaning in and kissing him quick. “There, consider that a down payment. You’ll get the rest when we get there, with interest.” He winks, reaching out and messing up Nathan’s hair. “Alright, I gotta head out an’ pick up some shit. Be back in ten, give or take an hour depending on traffic.”

“Alright,” Nathan still hasn’t managed to calm his heart down, “uh, be safe.”

“No way in hell.” Pickles laughs as he leaves, boots clicking down the steps outside. Nathan buries his face in the arm of the couch, smiling like an idiot. 


	7. Blue Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another lake date, but this one is a little more emotional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -again they each have a beer, again no drunk driving  
> -elements of internalized homophobia  
> -hints of unhealthy relationship stuff between nate and magnus (as if that hasn't been this whole fic sdkjfhskdhf)

By the time they get a chance to go again, fall has well and truly hit. As they pull up and get out of the car, they can see leaves swirling around and the sun is streaming through the trees, a picturesque view of the clearing they’ve both come to love so much. 

“Fuck, it’s so much better outside when it’s not boilin’ hot!” Pickles remarks, stretching and making a satisfied noise. “Y’think the pond’s gonna freeze over when it gets cold?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. I haven’t really come here during winter before.”

“Yeah? Well maybe we should. Now I’m curious.” Pickles grabs his acoustic guitar, sitting in its case, and slings it over his shoulder as he sits down on the dock, brushing leaves into the water. He’d promised Nathan he’d play something for him sometime, and he seems in the mood to make good on that promise today. Nathan grabs a cooler from the trunk and goes to sit next to his friend, cracking open a can of beer for each of them as Pickles makes sure his guitar is tuned right.

“I didn’t even know you had an acoustic.” Nathan remarks.

“Yeah, it never got as much use as the Les Paul, but it’s still nice. Don’t always feel like pluggin’ somethin’ in or playin’ without an amp, so… Acoustic it is.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “Any requests?”

“Uh… Not really.”

“Yeah? Well then allow me t’give ya the Pickles Special.” 

“Which is?”

“Freestyle, baby.” Pickles winks and starts to play with practiced ease, despite the fact Nathan hasn’t really ever seen him play guitar since he joined the band. His Les Paul sits on a stand in their shared room, but all it does is gather dust. Maybe Pickles doesn’t want to seem like he’s trying to upstage Magnus.

Still, he plays like he’s been doing it every day. Nathan wonders if it’s like riding a bike: something you never forget how to do. Ironically, despite his musical talent, he’s never really had much interest in playing an instrument. Sure, he took piano as a kid, but it wasn’t something he was ever serious about. He’d stopped by the time he started high school and football had become the new hobby he focused solely on. Part of him wishes he had some sort of instrumental talent like his friends, feels some sense of loneliness when they all practice or talk about guitars together. But right now, he’s happy just to be listening to Pickles play. It’s an easygoing tune, mellow and peaceful as the wind that whisks leaves around the two of them.

They stay like that for a long time, drinking as Pickles plays for both of them, and they just take in the music and the serenity of the forest around them. Eventually, Pickles slows to a stop and sets his guitar down on top of its case.

“Ah jeez, I knew I was outta practice, but…” He chuckles, holding up his hands to show his raw, slightly bloody fingertips.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Nathan doesn’t wait for him to answer, taking one of Pickles’ small hands in his own to inspect it.

“Yeah, man. Just happens when yer not used to it anymore. Calluses go away an’ shit. No big. Happened when I first started learnin’ too.” Pickles shrugs, but makes no move to pull his hand away. Nathan makes a noise that indicates he’s still concerned before he finally lets go of his bandmate’s hand. Pickles seems amused by his worry, and lays down on his side, looking up at Nathan through the stray locks of curly red hair that fall onto his face.

“What?” Nathan asks when he notices him staring.

“Can I say somethin’ kinda stupid?” Pickles asks, shifting to roll over onto his stomach and look over the end of the dock, dangling his hand in and letting the cool water touch his sore fingers.

“As if you don’t already do that all the time.” Nathan chuckles, “But yeah, go ahead.” He moves a little further down the dock, sitting next to Pickles more properly.

“D’you believe in like… Past lives an’ shit?” He doesn’t look up at Nathan as he asks this, not wanting to be judged. Nathan hums thoughtfully, looking out over the water.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, because he truly doesn’t. He never thinks about that kind of thing really, not more than anyone else. Sure, he wonders about some strange things in his life and in the world in general, but he hasn’t thought about or done enough research on these things to say whether he believes in them or not. “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Just been thinkin’ about shit like that lately. Sometimes I wonder…” He laughs, finally looking at Nathan, “God, yer gonna make fun of me.”

“Nah, keep talking. I’m interested.”

“Sometimes I wonder if like… we knew each other in a past life or somethin’.” Pickles groans, using his free hand to cover his face. “Jeez, that sounds so sappy an’ dumb.” Nathan shakes his head, moving to lay down next to him.

“It’s not!” He insists. “What makes you wonder that?”

“I dunno. Just like… we’ve just been on the same wavelength since like, day one. And we’ve known each other like, what, a year, tops? It’s like we were supposed to meet each other or somethin’. Like fate or destiny or some shit. I dunno, is that weird?”

“No, actually… You’re right, yeah. I feel the same way. We could basically read each other’s minds after like a week, and I still have no idea what’s going on in Magnus’ head, even though I’ve known him longer. It’s weird, but I get what you’re saying.”

“Yeah! It’s like maybe we already knew each other or somethin’ in a past life. I dunno, I always thought shit like that was kinda cool. People who’re destined t’meet an’ whatever.” Pickles looks at him, smiling a little more reservedly than usual.

“Yeah, me too. It’s cool to think about.” Nathan reaches over, moving one of Pickles’ curls out of his face just to have something to do with his hands. “Kind of like…”

“Kinda like we’re, like…”

“Soulmates or something...” Their voices overlap, eyes meeting and heartbeats picking up. Nathan hurriedly pulls his hand away and breaks eye contact.

“Not like _that_ way or anything, though…” He chuckles nervously.

“Yeah? Why not?” Pickles scoots closer, leaving only a couple of inches between them. Nathan swallows. Sometimes he can’t tell whether Pickles is joking or not.

“Because we’re… friends… and you’re my bandmate and stuff… you know…”

“Yeah?” Pickles asks, a slightly amused and almost patronizing tone creeping into his voice. “What, you sayin’ I’m not yer type? ‘Cause I think it’s pretty clear by now I am.” 

“Pickles…” He doesn’t like to talk about the things they’ve done together that extend beyond typical friendly gestures. He and Magnus never did, because thinking about it too much would only complicate things. But Pickles seems to be much more open. About everything.

“Nate.” He grins, reaching over and tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Y’can’t keep dodgin’ this shit forever, y’know.” He puts two fingers under his chin, tilting the other man’s head to look at him better. “It’s okay t’acknowledge things we do. Ya don’t gotta be ashamed of it.”

“It’s not that…” Nathan lies. It absolutely is that, at least partially. He’s still not sure how he feels about Magnus, and what they’ve done together. He’s not sure how he feels about guys, despite all he’s done. He knows he feels something for Pickles, but he doesn’t know how much of it is just infatuation and admiration for this talented man, and how much is more than that. He’s never felt this way about anyone, not even girlfriends, and that scares him.

“I know it’s scary.” Pickles says, like he’s reading his mind. Nathan hates how on the same page they are sometimes. “It’s okay t’be scared. Y’don’t hafta know everything right away. Y’don’t gotta call yerself gay or bi or anythin’ if you don’t wanna. It’s okay t’like… experiment an’ shit. And likin’ guys isn’t somethin’ t’be embarrassed about.” He laces his fingers through Nathan’s. “That was somethin’ it took me a long time t’realize. But I promise it’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s not that. I mean, it is, but…” Nathan lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know… Everything’s so weird. With me, you, and Magnus…” 

“I get it.” Pickles gives him a sympathetic look.

“I just feel all screwed up inside, and I don’t… I don’t know what to do! Because he’s my friend, but here I am sneaking off with you to be away from him, and that feels so shitty! But he won’t let me help him, he won’t even admit anything’s wrong!” Nathan curses under his breath as he feels a lump rise in his throat. “God, sorry. This was supposed to be a chill day, and I’m… Getting all fuckin’ mopey.”

“It’s okay.” Pickles lets go of his hand and instead pulls him into an embrace, running his fingers through his hair comfortingly, short nails lightly scratching his scalp. “Yer allowed t’be upset. Things can’t be good all the time. But… Y’can’t fix everythin’, Nate. I think I told ya that before, probably. But… if he doesn’t wanna patch shit up, y’can’t make him. He’s never gonna like me, honestly. An’ I’m okay with that. But you gotta accept it too. Y’can’t make everyone be friends an’ get along.”

“I know…” Nathan sighs, burying his face in Pickles’ chest. Something about him is such a comforting presence, and the way he plays with his hair as he holds him reminds him of his mom, only adding a splash of homesickness to his cocktail of emotions. “I know… But I want him to enjoy being in Dethklok… I want him to be happy here.”

“Yer not responsible for anyone’s happiness, Nate.” Pickles pats his back. “All you gotta worry about is yers. Ya just gotta think about what makes you happy, an’ go for it. Fuck everyone else.” Nathan holds him tighter, hoping Pickles doesn’t notice when hot tears of frustration soak into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Dethklok is what makes me happy… And I want everyone else to be happy in it…” He says, trying to hide the waver in his voice.

“Oh, Nate…” Pickles sighs, a melancholy tone edging into his voice. “Yer too nice fer yer own good sometimes, I swear…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pickles do be spittin straight fax doe


	8. Darkroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buckle up because uh... this one is rough. please heed the content warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -alcohol consumption  
> -talk of sexual elements  
> -elements of domestic abuse  
> -verbal and physical abuse  
> -jealousy and possessiveness  
> -unhealthy magnate  
> -violence and blood  
> -hand lacerations  
> -broken glass  
> -hints of pickles' childhood trauma

“Hey, I- Where’s Nathan?” Magnus stops in the doorway to the living room, stiffening when he sees only Pickles laying on the couch, flipping through a magazine. 

“Work.”

“Skwisgaar?”

“Out with a lady friend. Looks like it’s just you an’ me today, pal.” Pickles smirks, sitting up. “Didja need somethin’?”

“Not from you.” Magnus walks to the kitchenette, rooting through the cabinets, more to look like he has something to do and less because he’s hungry. 

“Aw, c’mahn…” Pickles sighs, “Why y’gotta be like that, huh? How come ya hate me so much?” Magnus turns to look at him, and narrows his eyes. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe just a lil bit…” Pickles admits, picking up a previously hidden bottle of vodka off of the floor. “Ya want some?”

“Lush…” Magnus mutters, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the cabinet. “I’ll pass on drinking after you. God knows where your mouth’s been.”

“Oh, I could give ya a few hints…” Pickles stands up and makes his way over to Magnus in a surprisingly smooth and quiet motion. He hops up onto the counter next to him, bottle of vodka still in hand. Magnus sighs in annoyance, but tries to ignore him. “Seriously though, how come ya hate me?” Pickles asks, nudging the other man with his knee. 

“Because you’re constantly throwing yourself at Nathan and it’s pathetic.” Magnus answers simply. “He clearly doesn’t see you that way.”

“Pfffffft… oh man, you got no idea how wrong you are ‘bout that.” Pickles laughs, a noise that sets Magnus’ teeth on edge. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. There’s just a lotta things Nate doesn’t tell ya, I guess…”

“Yeah? Enlighten me then.” Magnus wants to believe he’s bluffing. He  _ has  _ to believe he’s bluffing. Nathan is his best friend, the only person he’s ever felt safe and comfortable around. He wouldn’t keep things from him… Would he?

“Nah. Wouldn’t be right t’do it without his permission. I’m a good friend.” Pickles replies. Magnus finally snaps, hands moving quickly from the cabinet to the counter with a loud, resounding  _ THWACK! _

“You act like I don’t already know you’re fucking.” He laughs humorlessly, fighting off a voice crack. He swallows around a lump in his throat that seems to have appeared all at once without him noticing. 

“Huh?” Pickles looks a little sobered now, eyes wide and focused on Magnus’ hands. He looks intimidated. Magnus finds some sense of satisfaction in that. Finally cracking that egotistical shell. 

“You make it so fucking obvious. Jesus.” He slams the cabinets closed, letting out an angry sigh. “I’m not stupid, you know. You might think I am, but I’m really fucking not.” He turns to Pickles, eyes wild and full of fury. 

“Hey man, calm down…” Pickles leaves his perch on the counter and holds up his hands. “I didn’t say anythin’ like that…”

“Calm down?” Magnus laughs at that, running a hand through his hair. “Calm DOWN?” His voice rises to a shout, and in his fit of rage he sweeps Pickles’ abandoned bottle of vodka off of the counter, and it sails onto the floor, shattering in a loud and satisfying way. Pickles jumps, covering his face with his arms. Once he’s sure he’s fine, he sets them down, looking at Magnus with a fire in his eyes. 

“What the fuck, man? That’s dangerous! What’s your deal?”

“My  _ deal _ ,” Magnus growls, stepping forward and feeling glass crunch underneath his boots, “is  _ you _ .” He reaches forward, grabbing the front of Pickles’ shirt in his fists and easily hoisting him up, above the puddle of glass and vodka he’s created. “Ever since you joined, you’ve ruined  _ everything _ . You’ve been trying to upstage me at every turn, and you just whisk Nathan away to god knows where sometimes! Don’t think I didn’t fucking notice that shit.” 

“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. Please, put me down-”

“You share a goddamn  _ room  _ with him! You hardly  _ know _ him and you’re already taking him away from me!” Magnus doesn’t notice the tears rising in his eyes, blurring his vision. “You pretend to be so sweet, like you’re everyone’s friend, but all you want is to elbow me out of the band and take my place! It should be ME sharing a room with him! It should be ME he listens to! I’ve known him for fucking YEARS!” He cries, tears spilling down over his cheeks. 

“It’s not like that, man! I swear!”

“ _ LIAR _ !” Magnus cries, turning and slamming Pickles against the fridge, his head hitting it so hard he sees stars. “I’m not going to let you take over my fucking life! He’s the only thing I’ve ever had! He’s the only person who’s ever fucking understood me!” Magnus lets out another cry of frustration and finally drops him, turning away. Pickles hits the tile floor, slick with vodka, and while his knees only land at the edge of the puddle, when he catches himself with his hands, they fall right onto the bed of jagged glass. 

“FUCK!” He cries, wincing and feeling tears well up as the glass cleaves into his skin. If he wasn’t sobered up before, he definitely is now. Blood blossoms forth, dribbling down the shards of glass and mingling with the alcohol on the floor like a macabre watercolor. 

Magnus is already grabbing his keys and wallet, heading for the door. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes meet Pickles’ just as he starts to turn the doorknob. 

Pickles has never seen this side of him. Sure they’ve fought, but Magnus always seemed to come around, to be joking. But all that lies behind the eyes of his bandmate now is cold, unfeeling satisfaction. The door slams behind him, and Pickles stares down at the quickly pooling blood and vodka seeping into the knees of his jeans. In a daze, he lifts up a hand and reaches forward, shaking, to pick up a large shard of glass. He stands up on unsteady legs and tosses it into the trash can, and then proceeds to start picking up the rest. 

Nathan, mercifully, is the one who comes home first. He finds Pickles on his knees, sweeping slushy fragments of glass into one weeping hand with the other. 

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” He cries, running over to his friend and carefully lifting him up into his arms. Pickles opens his mouth to speak, but no words come at first. 

He could tell Nathan everything. He  _ should _ tell Nathan everything. He knows Magnus was fully sober and intended to do what he did. But something stops him. He’s not afraid of Magnus’ ire if he tells on him, because he’s not afraid of anyone anymore. But…

He understands how he feels. 

Pickles knows what it’s like to be the unfavored one, knows what it’s like seeing someone you desperately want love and validation from giving it all to someone else. He remembers wanting to smash glass bottles over Seth’s head, he remembers crying with frustration alone in his room when he was still too young to really understand his feelings or why he was the odd one out, he remembers drinking because it was the only way he could dull that horrific ache of loneliness and jealousy. 

He gets it. And he can’t be mad at him, despite how much he loves holding grudges. Besides, he started it. He swallows, and looks up at Nathan. 

“I was drinkin’, and uh… well, ya know me. Short guy an’ tall shelves ain’t a great combo at the best’a times. And I ended up knockin’ the bottle down while I was lookin’ for more in the cabinets, and of course I slipped on that. And uh…” he holds up his hands, smiling sheepishly, “yeah. Not pretty.”

“Where’s Magnus?” Nathan asks, looking around as if he expects to see their other roommate appear from thin air. 

“He left before I started drinkin’.” Pickles doesn’t know why he’s covering his ass. Doesn’t know why he’s letting sentimentality get the better of him for the sake of someone who hates him. But he’s made this bed, and he intends to lie in it. “Think he just wanted some alone time. And Skwisgaar’s out with a lady friend. So uh… yeah, I picked the best time to have a blonde moment, huh?”

“Fuck, you’re bleeding a lot… those look really deep…” Nathan seems to have stopped listening after realizing he’s the only one here with Pickles, instead focusing on analyzing his wounds. “Okay, I’m gonna drive you to the hospital. Just… hold on.” He sets Pickles down on the counter, and runs to grab a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. 

Tenderly, he wraps it around Pickles’ hands, crimson soaking through them almost as quickly as they touch his skin. Still, Nathan keeps going until Pickles’ hands are more or less covered, and then scoops him up again, holding him like a princess. Pickles wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to do that, because his feet are very much in working condition, but he doesn’t. 

He carries him to the car, and buckles him in. Pickles stays silent as Nathan starts to drive, the only sound the low volume of one of Nathan’s Cannibal Corpse CDs playing. He can see that Nathan is white-knuckling the wheel, occasionally turning to look at Pickles and make sure he’s still there. Pickles just stares aimlessly out at the traffic in front of them, thinking of nothing in particular and trying to ignore the dull, aching throb of his lacerated palms. 


	9. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -hospital visit  
> -sutures  
> -hints of internalized homophobia  
> -alcohol abuse

The hospital is a blur of white and washed out blue and grey, and when he fully becomes aware of himself again, he’s staring down at his hands as they’re x-rayed. He’s given a pill to swallow that will help with the pain, and the doctors begin to carefully pick out the fragments of glass left in his skin. Nathan sits by his side, leg bouncing as he chews on his thumbnail. Pickles wants to reach out and hold his hand, to tell him everything will be okay, but he can’t. He didn’t realize until now just how often he touches Nathan, how much he’s been taking it for granted. 

“Some of these are going to need stitches.” A doctor says once the glass is out of his skin. Pickles nods, quieter than he’s sure Nathan’s ever seen him. He wants to protest about the fact that he doesn’t have money for that, but he has some savings leftover from his Snakes n’ Barrels days. Not that he was planning on dipping into it for something like this, but it can’t really be helped. 

They tend to the cuts that don’t need stitches first; closing them with small strips of medical tape and simply disinfecting and putting bandages on others. After that, he’s injected with a little anesthetic, and he wants to make a joke about free drugs, but he doesn’t. Nobody in the room seems to be in much of a joking mood; least of all him. 

He keeps his eyes closed for the actual suturing. He feels the sensation of it, but with very little pain, which he’s thankful for. The last thing he needs right now is to see a needle going in and out of his skin, threading it closed once again. The doctor tells him he’s very lucky not to have hit any veins or nerves. He doesn’t feel very lucky. 

And almost as fast as they were in, they’re out. Walking to the car as Pickles looks down at his bandaged hands. Gauze covers the sutures, but the feeling is starting to come back. It’s unpleasant. He’s thankful in that moment that he doesn’t really play his guitar anymore. That it’s not part of his livelihood. If it was…

He tries not to think about it. He doesn’t need to worry too much about hand injuries now that he plays the drums. But part of him aches, remembering playing his old acoustic for Nathan by the water just a few days prior. He won’t get to do that for a while. Won’t get to do much of anything for a while. That starts to spark frustration within him; knowing his agency will be compromised until these stupid sutures are out and he gets the okay from the doctor. He’s about to tell Nathan as much when they reach the car, but before he can, strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. He stands there, stunned, unsure what to do with his hands. 

“You scared the shit out of me…” Nathan sighs, reaching up and running his fingers through Pickles’ hair. 

“Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m just… fuck, I’m just glad you’re okay…” his breath hitches slightly, and Pickles can’t see from where his face is, pressed against Nathan’s broad chest, but he suspects he might be tearing up. 

“Yeah, of course man. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” His voice sounds distant and hollow to him, and he hopes Nathan doesn’t notice. Being held by him like this feels like a perverse mockery of Magnus’ feelings now that he knows about them. Now that he understands the depth of them. 

Nathan pulls away, hands on Pickles shoulders as he looks at him, and then takes his face in his hands. He rubs a thumb over the drummer’s cheek, his green eyes shining with emotion even in the dim light of the parking lot. 

“You’d better not be.” He says, pulling him close and resting his forehead against Pickles’. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I swear to God, you keep me sane.”

“You’d be fine without me…” Pickles chuckles, closing his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t be nearly as happy though.”

“Sounds pretty gay, Nate.”

“Yeah, well…” Nathan sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, “what can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”

“That sounds even gayer.”

“Shut up and get in the car, dumbass.”

***

Pickles sits in the dark, waiting for something he’s not even sure is coming. Nathan has long since gone to bed, and Skwisgaar is spending the night with his date, so Pickles sits awake on Magnus’ mattress. The smell of cigarettes has seeped into every inch of the room, suffocating, and Pickles wonders how Skwisgaar stands it.

The sound of keys in the front door makes him snap to attention. His heart pounds in his chest, but he knows what he needs to do. The bedroom door opens, and Magnus’ familiar silhouette stands there. He notices Pickles, but hardly reacts at all. 

“What do you want?” His voice is tired. Like he’s been on the run for years and he’s finally giving himself up to his pursuer. 

“I wanted to talk.” Pickles replies, standing up. 

“About what?” Magnus’ eyes flick down to his hands, clearly with some idea of what. 

“I just wanted to say somethin’.”

“So say it.”

“I didn’t tell Nate. About our fight today.” Magnus looks a little surprised at that. 

“Why?”

“Because I understand how you feel. And I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

“...I don’t need your sympathy.”

“I know. But I just… feel like I should tell you I know what it’s like. An’ I’ll step off. I want us to be able to get along, an’ if it takes givin’ you and Nate some space… I’ll do that.”

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m tryin’ to call a cease-fire here, dood.” Pickles sighs. “No bullshit. No blackmail. No games. I’m just sick of fightin’ all the damn time. So whaddaya say? Truce?” He holds out a bandaged hand. Magnus regards it, and then gently takes it. They shake as well as they can, and Magnus lets go, pushing past him, carrying the scent of whiskey and cigarettes like it’s perfume. 

“Truce. Now get out of my room.” He grunts, collapsing onto his mattress. Pickles does as he’s told, and walks into his own room, laying down on the mattress he and Nathan share. He takes a long look at his troubled face as he sleeps, committing it to memory, and turns away, closing his eyes. 


	10. Contrast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -jealousy  
> -magnus being a two-faced bitch

The four of them sit on the floor around the coffee table the next morning, a rare occurrence since their sleep schedules almost never align to allow it. Today, however, is different. Skwisgaar is the only one of the four of them who seems to be in a good mood, the hickeys covering his neck an indication of why. The other three, however, eat in dejected silence as the TV plays the local news, speaking to nobody in particular. Nathan is the first to break that silence.

“We need a bass player.” He sighs, tearing small chunks off of his bagel to eat them. Magnus grunts in acknowledgement, still nursing a hangover. Pickles says nothing, stirring his soggy cereal listlessly. His motions are awkward as he tries to avoid irritating the stitches in his hand.

“We should holds auditions then.” Skwisgaar says, sipping his coffee.

“You don’t know anyone you think would be good?” Nathan asks.

“Nobody I’m eagers to works with again.” Skwisgaar sneers. “Hard to finds a bass player that knows thems place.”

“...Right…” Nathan turns his attention to Pickles. “How about you? You brought us Skwisgaar. Any good bass players you know who need a gig?” Pickles doesn’t look up from his cereal.

“Eh, not off the top’a my head. I’ll let ya know.”

“Okay.” Nathan says, sounding a little disappointed. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He gestures to his bandmate’s bandaged hands.

“‘M fine. Little sore, but it’s mostly calmed down. Just real stiff, y’know?”

“Yeah, I bet… I’m sorry. Let me know if you need help with anything.” He says tenderly, reaching a hand out to put it on Pickles’ arm, but he draws it in before he can.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” He says, standing up with his bowl. “Nate, you should get to work.”

“I can take the day off if you need me to!” He says, looking slightly desperate.

“I can take care of myself, Nathan.” Pickles sets his bowl in the sink and turns to go back to his and Nathan’s room. “I think I’m gonna take a nap. You have a good day at work.” He shuts the door behind him, and Nathan stares down at his bagel, his appetite leaving all at once.

“I’m sure he ams fine.” Skwisgaar offers, patting Nathan’s shoulder gently. “Just ins a mood, you knows?”

“Yeah…” Nathan rubs his face tiredly.

“He’s probably frustrated at not being able to use his hands as much.” Magnus adds, gaze soft as he looks at Nathan. “Give him some time. He’ll be okay.”

“I hope so…” Nathan says, eyeing the door to their shared room. Right now, it feels more like a wall.

***

“...yeah, sounds good!”

Nathan walks into the apartment, hearing the sound of Pickles’ voice, much more cheerful than he had been this morning. He smiles, and turns the corner to see him on the phone. Pickles notices him, and gives him a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I gotta go. But I’ll talk to ya later. Mmkay, bye!” He hangs up and sets the phone back in the receiver.

“Who was that?” Nathan asks, setting down his keys.

“Ah, nobody.” Pickles waves his hand dismissively. “How was yer day?” Nathan feels a slight pang at that. Who could Pickles be talking to that he didn’t feel comfortable telling him about? Nathan tries to brush it off.

“Fine. Work’s work, you know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Pickles nods. “Well, least it wasn’t bad.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Mhmm! Hey, I gotta go run some errands, but I’ll be back.”

“You’re not planning on driving, are you?”

“Oh, nah, it’s walking distance.” Pickles says, already passing Nathan to get to the door. He feels another pang. He’s been worrying about Pickles all day, and he’s leaving right when Nathan gets home?

“Are you sure? I can drive you!” He offers. Desperation creeps into his voice, and he hopes it’s not obvious.

“Yer sweet. But I got it. Y’just got home, so you take a load off. I’ll be back in a tick, ‘kay?”

“...Okay…” Nathan says, slightly hesitant. Pickles is already halfway out the door, and he watches it close behind him. A heavy feeling settles over his chest, and he wonders if he did something wrong. Had he pushed his boundaries too much when he’d hugged Pickles last night? Had he said too much, gotten too sentimental? They’d done more than that already, but… 

“Nathan, you home?” Magnus steps out into the living room, smiling when he sees him. “Hey. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Nathan lies, smiling back at him.

“Okay. Well, Skwisgaar and I were gonna go over some stuff in this new song. You wanna help?”

“...Yeah, that sounds good.”


	11. Overexposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -unhealthy dynamics  
> -pickles' martyr complex  
> -very slight jealousy and possessiveness  
> -magnus still being a two-faced bitch

“I’m gonna be goin’ outta town for a while.” Pickles announces a few days later, standing in front of his bandmates like he’s giving a speech. Magnus raises an eyebrow. Skwisgaar furrows his brow. Nathan’s mouth drops open slightly.

“What for?” Magnus is the first to ask what they’re all thinking. He crosses his arms, looking somewhat suspicious.

“My friend Tony’s passin’ through, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. We’re gonna hang out like old times.” Pickles says, smiling a little.

“Is dis de Tony froms Snakes and Barrel?” Skwisgaar asks. Pickles nods.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” Nathan’s question comes last.

“Couple weeks. You guys should be able to survive that long without me, right?” He chuckles. 

“Where are you gonna be going?” Nathan continues, looking slightly upset.

“Just drivin’ around. I’ll keep in touch, don’t worry. Hotels have phones.” Nathan bristles a little at that.

“When are you leaving?” Magnus asks. Pickles looks slightly troubled.

“...Tomorrow mornin’.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to be going? Your hands are still healing, and… and… isn’t it kinda sudden?” Nathan looks to the others to back him up. Magnus and Skwisgaar shrug.

“Ams not dat bigs of a deal. He’s an adults, he can go hangs out with an old friends if he wants.” Skwisgaar says. Magnus nods in agreement, and Nathan gives them a betrayed look.

“...Hey, it’s okay, Nate. I’ll be back before ya know it. Promise I’ll keep in touch.” Pickles smiles apologetically. “Sorry it’s so sudden. He didn’t know he was gonna be in town for sure until earlier today, so… Yeah. Dunno when I’ll get to see him again, y’know? He was my best friend for a real long time.”

“Yeah… I understand.” Nathan sighs, smiling back a little. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this. Why he feels jealousy bubbling up in his chest. He wants to beg Pickles not to go. He’s worried about his hands, of course, but more than that, he just doesn’t want to be without him for two weeks. Magnus has been more mellow lately, but after their last experience home alone together… Nathan feels like he’s a ticking time bomb. Having Pickles with him makes him feel safe, as stupid as that is. But maybe Pickles planned this, wanting the three of them to grow closer in his absence.

“Hey, he plays bass! Maybe I can talk to him about joinin’ us!” Pickles says, as if that’s meant to be a consolation. Something about that idea makes the jealousy in Nathan’s chest flare up again. He clenches his fist, short nails digging into his palms.

“That might be a good idea.” Magnus says. Nathan looks at him, slightly bewildered. He’d expected him to fly off the handle at that suggestion. He always had when it came to adding new members. What the hell had gotten into him lately?

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna get to packin’.” Pickles says, heading for his and Nathan’s bedroom.

The two of them lay in the darkness, neither sleeping but neither wanting to be the first to speak. Eventually, Nathan does, however.

“...Do you have to go?”

“It’s only a little while, Nate. It’ll be okay.”

“I know, but…” He shrugs, unsure what he was planning on saying.

“Nate, look.” Pickles turns to him, sighing, “I’m sick of fightin’ with Magnus all the time. I need a break. More than just an afternoon by the pond.” He reaches out, brushing a lock of hair away from the singer’s face. “It’ll be good for all of us, I think. Havin’ me gone for a little bit. Y’can all reorient yerselves without me, and maybe you an’ Magnus can sort some shit out. I don’t know…”

“But I need you here,” Nathan says, gently taking Pickles’ hand, “you’re my best friend. You keep me sane. You make everything better when it’s all going to shit…” Pickles gives him a melancholy smile.

“That’s exactly why I gotta go away for a little bit. Ya can’t depend on me so much, Nathan. I can’t just hang around an’ be a crutch whenever ya need me.” He moves a little closer, and Nathan can feel the warmth of his body as Pickles rests his free hand on his cheek. “Ya gotta learn to be strong on yer own. Yer the leader of this band, whether ya realize it or not.”

“I don’t want to be…” Nathan sighs, leaning into his touch and closing his eyes. “I just want… Fuck, I don’t know… I just don’t want you to leave…”

“I know. But it’ll be good for all of us. Especially Magnus.” Nathan holds Pickles’ wrist a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls him closer. Pickles rests his head on Nathan’s chest, listening to the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He allows himself this one night of closeness, because he’s sure as hell going to miss it while he’s away.


	12. Forced Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony and skwisgaar are the realest bitches in this fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -smoking  
> -alcohol mentions  
> -magnus? being nice? in MY fanfic? it's more likely than you think

Pickles leaves relatively early in the morning for the four of them, 10 AM with the sun shining down on Tony’s car as he tosses his suitcase in the backseat. He says his goodbyes to his bandmates, and hops into the passenger seat, keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror until they’re specks in the distance.

“So, how’ve you been?” Tony asks, turning to him when they hit a red light. 

That’s a loaded question.

Since they’ve last seen each other, he’s been fighting nearly constantly with Magnus, he’s got stitches in his hands to prove it, and he might have feelings for Nathan. All in all, things could be better. Despite everything, though, he smiles, and it’s genuine.

“Good. Really good. They’re great dudes. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Magnus isn’t crazy about me. He’s the one in the denim jacket.”

“Ah. Yeah, he definitely was giving you… a look.”

“He pretty much always is.” Pickles snorts, hiking up a leg. “How ‘bout you? Everything goin’ good?”

“More or less. It’s weird not being with the other guys.”

“Yeah, it’s been kinda hard to get used to. Y’live with a buncha dudes for several years an’ ya end up missin’ em when ya all separate. Who’d have guessed.”

“Yeah. We need to get together sometime.”

“Little soon for a reunion tour, isn’t it?”

“I mean just for dinner or something, smartass.” Tony chuckles, jabbing him with his elbow. “Seriously though, it’s really good to see you again.”

“Yeah man. You too.” Pickles smiles, his chest already feeling a little lighter. “I love these guys, but we’ve been havin’ a rough time lately.”

“How so?”

“Just…” Pickles sighs, gesturing vaguely. “Magnus an’ me mostly. He can be kind of a diva. But to be fair, I start shit too just ‘cause… Well, you know me.”

“Unfortunately.” Tony smirks.

“Yeah, yeah. Point is, I think me bein’ gone for a little while will be good for them. Give Magnus’ ego some breathin’ room.”

“Sounds like it. You deserve to have some space too, man.”

“Yeah. I feel kinda bad for Nathan, though… He’s had t’be in the middle of it all. He an’ Magnus were friends a long time before I showed up. He thinks I’m tryin’ to steal his spot or whatever.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.” Pickles huffs. “Not my fault Nate an’ I get along.”

“You think they had something...  _ going on _ before you joined?”

“Oh I’m almost positive. And even if they didn’t, Magnus clearly feels somethin’ for him.”

“Well what about you?”

“...What  _ about _ me?”

“Do you feel something for Nathan?”

“...Pfft, don’t be stupid. I’ve hardly known the guy a year...”

“Pickles.”

“...”

“Pickles.”

“What?”

“...Do you like him?”

*******

Nathan’s doing… okay.

He can’t say he’s doing great without Pickles there, but he’s managing. Magnus seems to be in a much better mood; his temper is shorter with Skwisgaar than normal. It’s almost like having the old Magnus back, from before Pickles joined. Nathan just wishes it didn’t take one of the band members not being here for him to act normal again.

Still, he has to admit, it’s nice seeing Magnus more mellowed out. He’s joking like he used to, and he’s spending more time out in the living room. He and Skwisgaar are almost starting to develop a camaraderie. Or maybe they have been this whole time and Nathan’s just been too wrapped up in his own world to notice. Either way, it’s nice. It’s okay. He’s okay.

Magnus sets his amp down in front of the couch where Nathan sits, grinning like a madman. He looks up at the guitarist, who has his Les Paul in his free hand.

“It’s done.” He announces.

“What?”

“‘The Hammer’. It’s done. Well, the lyrics and the guitar parts are at least. But it’s still done.” He puffs up with pride, and Nathan’s eyes widen. He’d nearly forgotten about Magnus’ supposed masterpiece. The sounds of it being composed had become background noise in his life for the past few months, but now… Magnus tosses an open notebook onto the coffee table in front of him. Nathan picks it up, looking over the lyrics written in Magnus’ messy but dignified scrawl; something he’s learned to read like another language over the years.

And it’s good. Really good. 

Not only that, but the lyrics are Dethklok lyrics. He’s had his doubts about Magnus being able to capture the feeling Nathan can’t name or describe in any way other than “Dethklok”, but right now… It looks like he shouldn’t have. Magnus sits down and gets his guitar in position.

“You remember how it goes more or less, right?” Even if he didn’t, Magnus has drawn in the music as well, so Nathan can pick it up as they go. Thankfully, playing piano as a kid was useful for something at least.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You wanna sing while I play it?” Magnus is practically bursting with excitement, more alive and elated than Nathan’s seen him in god knows how long. He can’t help but match his smile. He stands up so he can get enough air in his lungs, and looks at the notebook.

“Go for it.”

And Magnus does exactly that.

It’s good. Amazing, actually. He’s always been a skilled guitarist, but when he plays his own work, it only highlights his talent. Nathan can tell as he sings and listens that Magnus really and truly did put his heart and soul into this song. It’s definitely a masterpiece in its own way. His eyes wander to Magnus during a guitar solo, and he sees him sitting there, smiling, and it’s like he’s looking at the Magnus he first met all those years ago. A man playing in a dingy bar at open mic night, his talent and vision lost on everyone else there but Nathan. When the song’s over, Magnus sets his guitar down as Nathan sits back on the couch to catch his breath.

“What did you think?” Magnus asks, leaning in with his whole body, eyes bright and eager.

“I think it’s definitely worthy of going on our first album.” Nathan smiles.

“I knew you had good taste.” Magnus replies, trying to hide his elation. But Nathan still sees the way he smiles proudly to himself the whole rest of the day.

***

“Sometimes… I think about leavin’.” Pickles admits, head upside down and hanging off of the motel bed he’s laying in. “Leavin’ Dethklok, I mean.”

“Is this Magnus guy really that bad?” Tony asks from the bathroom after spitting out his toothpaste.

“Nah, it’s not even him really. Though it probably should be. It’s just… I think about what he said about me stealin’ Nathan. An’ I wonder if maybe they’d be better off without me. Not like a drummer’s hard to replace, anyway.”

“First of all, I’m telling Sammy you said that next time we talk.” Tony walks out of the bathroom, sitting next to Pickles on the bed. “Second of all, you’re not going to leave them. I know you. Even when you’re unhappy, you stick with people until the end.” He reaches over to the nightstand, picking up his box of cigarettes. He shakes one out and offers it to Pickles, who takes it gladly, sitting up. “Besides, you’re too into this Nathan guy.” Tony says as he lights his cigarette for him. 

“Yer too invested in my love life.” Pickles rolls his eyes.

“So you admit you love him?”

“Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break…” He chuckles as Tony lights his own cigarette. “Look, even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything about it. That’d fuck up the whole band dynamic even more. Me showing up already left us hangin’ by a thread. If Nate an’ I got together, Dethklok would be done for.”

“You could always keep it secret.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause I’m  _ so  _ good at bein’ subtle.” He rolls his eyes.

“Fair enough.” Tony sighs. “I dunno man, I just want you to be happy. And this Nathan kid… Seems like he makes you happy.”

“I’m happy enough just bein’ his friend.” Pickles’ eyes linger on the cigarette ashes that land on his sneakers. “If it means we can all keep bein’ together, and Dethklok can make it… That’s all I need.”

“...Man, you’ve got it  _ bad _ .”

“I do not!” Pickles says, feeling his face heat up. “I’m just… bein’ hypothetical.”

“Hypothetical my ass. You’re in love with him, you idiot. I haven’t seen you in years and I already know that after hanging out with you again for a week.” Tony chuckles. Pickles groans and puts his head in his hands.

“Fuck… Am I?” He mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. “Oh God… I am, aren’t I? God… God fucking dammit… I can’t be! It’s just gonna fuck everything up...” He lifts his head and stares at the burning orange end of his cigarette, sighing deeply. Tony pats his back sympathetically.

“It’s okay…” He says.

“It’s not.” Pickles chuckles sadly, “I’m fuckin’ stupid… God, I’m fuckin’  _ stupid _ ! How did I not fuckin’ realize? And of course it’s gotta be someone I need to start distancin’ myself from to keep the goddamn band together!” He snuffs his cigarette out in the ashtray and buries his face in a pillow, groaning loudly. Tony pats his back again.

“You want me to go get us some booze so you don’t have to think critically about your feelings?”

“...Please.”

***

The bed still feels empty without him.

Nathan lays awake, staring at the slowly oscillating ceiling fan as sleep evades him. He wonders how things will be when Pickles comes back; if Magnus will go back to the way he was before. If nothing will change and they’ll be forever at each other’s throats. He sits up, sighing heavily, and figures that if he isn’t going to be able to sleep, he might as well try and distract himself until he is.

When he walks out into the living room, he’s surprised to see Skwisgaar standing by the window in his white robe. He joins him silently, looking out at the autumn evening.

“Can’t sleeps?” Skwisgaar asks, gaze still far away.

“Yeah. You too?”

“ _ Ja _ . Thinkings about Pickle and Magnus?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“...What the fuck are we gonna do if they can’t get along?” Nathan feels some of the weight leave his chest as he finally voices his concerns to someone other than Pickles.

“I don’ts know. I hate to admits it, but I reallies don’t wants dis band to breaks up. You guys ams… Not totallies dildos.” Skwisgaar crosses his arms, catching himself before he says something too nice. Nathan chuckles, thankful for the small amount of normalcy he can always count on Skwisgaar to bring.

“Yeah. We work really well together when it comes down to it. I don’t want to lose that.” He doesn’t say anything about his fear of losing Magnus or Pickles. Some worries are too intimate for him to speak aloud, even if he’s sure Skwisgaar can pick up on them regardless. It’s silent for a long time, and the two of them stand and watch dead leaves flutter in the wind.

“It ams almost winters.” Skwisgaar observes. Nathan nods. “Maybe de new years will be goods for alls of us.”

“I hope so.” He crosses his arms as well, and the two of them sigh in tandem. 

“...Do you wants a drink?” Skwisgaar asks after a while. Nathan smiles slightly.

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want you guys to know that i love magnus so so much i do not know why i make him such an asshole (it's bc he has unresolved childhood trauma and doesn't know how to express his emotions outside of violent outbursts)


	13. It's Just a Burning Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴  
> 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴  
> 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦  
> 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter:  
> -bittersweet ending

Tomorrow is the end of his reprieve.

As much as he’s loved it, he still misses everyone. Even Magnus’ snarky comments and side-eyeing are parts of his life he had no idea how used to he was. Even sharing motel beds with Tony, the space next to him always felt empty without Nathan there. He can’t keep thinking like that, he knows it. He needs to shut those thoughts out, needs to hold Nathan at arm’s length for the sake of the band. For the sake of his truce with Magnus.

Pickles feels hollow and heavy all at once as he packs his suitcase, thankful for being able to spend time with Tony away from all the drama his life has consisted of the past few months. Thankful for the clarity and the breathing room this mini-vacation has provided. In some ways he never wants to go home, in other ways he never wants to leave again. He zips up his suitcase and looks at it, staring into the green fabric, scuffed and worn from years of touring and traveling. So many years of friendship with the rest of Snakes n’ Barrels, and none of it was ever as hard as this.

He doesn’t regret it though. Despite everything, he loves Dethklok. He loves Nathan, and Skwisgaar, and even Magnus. And whoever they pick to be their bassist, he’s going to love them too. Despite everything, he feels a future for Dethklok deep in his heart, even if there’s no future for him and Nathan. He’s going to work hard to make sure they all stay together no matter what, even if it means putting up a wall. Even if it means building a bridge.

He’s not going to let Dethklok fall apart like Snakes n’ Barrels.

***

Two weeks, a period of time that once seemed impossibly long to Nathan, are almost at an end. 

Tomorrow, Pickles comes home, and his mattress will no longer feel empty. He’ll be able to see his crooked grin and get lost in his endlessly green eyes and his fiery red hair. He’ll be able to show him ‘The Hammer’ with Magnus and Skwisgaar, and they’ll all start working together to find a bassist to complete the band. Everything’s going to be better. He’ll  _ make  _ everything be better. For Magnus, for Pickles, for Skwisgaar, for Dethklok.

He lays awake again, for an entirely different reason now. He can feel the future, can feel their lives intertwined on and on forever. He can feel their legacy, the legacy of Dethklok, spreading the world over. As he drifts off to sleep, he can hear their future, the sounds of praise and cheers and adoration from fans the world over, and it sounds like sea-song.

***

Pickles gets out of the car a block away from their apartment so he can say his goodbye and his hellos separately. He leaves Tony with a hug and a promise to keep in touch and see each other soon. He watches him drive off into the distance, and starts his walk home. He knows the sidewalks near their apartment by heart, his pace picking up as he approaches it. 

His suitcase’s wheels click in protest as he drags it up the steps and to the elevator, slamming the button for their floor with his elbow. He shouldn’t be getting excited. He knows he needs to space himself out from Nathan more. He knows he can’t hug him or kiss him or tell him how much he missed falling asleep next to him every night. 

But as the elevator doors slide open, he feels butterflies fill his stomach. He speedwalks down the hall to their door, and knocks three times. He hears commotion from inside, and all at once the door swings open and he’s pulled inside, his suitcase falling to the floor.

He crashes into a wall of warmth and muscle, the familiar scent of the soap he knows only one person in their apartment uses. His arms wrap around it before he can stop himself with stupid things like logic and common sense, and he buries his face into it. Two weeks might as well have been an eternity, because it feels like he just got back from fucking war.

“I missed you…” Nathan’s voice is quiet when he speaks, and he sighs like the entire universe has just fallen into place, like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be.

“I missed you too…” Pickles breathes, taking in the familiar sound of the heartbeat he falls asleep next to every night. It’s dramatic. All of this is so dramatic and so gay, but neither of them care right now. All they can do is hold each other like nothing else exists in the world and nothing else ever will. The warm, giddy feeling subsides just long enough for him to notice the lack of other voices. “Where’s Skwisgaar and Magnus?”

“Your timing literally could not be worse, because they went to go get shit so we could surprise you with food and booze when you got back.” Nathan laughs. Pickles joins in, both of them laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve heard in years. Maybe it is. Once they slow to a stop, Pickles looks up at Nathan, holding his face in his hands. This is so stupid. All of this is so stupid. He’s doing the exact opposite of what he needs to be doing for the good of this band, and… 

Oh, fuck it. 

He can be stupid and impulsive just for one day. He’s earned that much at least with all he’s gone through these past few months. 

Pickles pulls Nathan’s face down and stands on his tiptoes to meet him in the middle, ignoring the pain in his hands as their lips meet. Nathan runs his fingers through Pickles’ hair, kissing him like he’ll never get to do it again. Pickles tries not to think about the fact that he might not. Instead, he just focuses on telling Nathan with his lips what he can’t with his words; what he’ll never be able to tell him with his words. 

When they pull away, all they can do at first is stare into each other’s eyes, both wanting to kiss again, but neither wanting to make the first move.

“I…” Nathan wants to say something, he knows exactly what he wants to say. Three words lingering in his throat refuse to weasel themselves out of his mouth as he looks down at Pickles. His heart is beating so hard and fast he feels like it might burst. He only needs to say two words to let Pickles know how he feels, but they don’t come. They won’t come. So he spits out the only garbled nonsense his brain can manage. “I think… We should build a space helicopter…” He has no idea where any of that came from, no idea what it even means, and he wants to hit himself as soon as he exhales the final word. Pickles looks equally bewildered, but then suddenly he starts to laugh. Nathan’s not sure if he’s ever seen him laugh this hard, but right now it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. Pickles leans into him, and even snorts before covering his mouth and slowing down.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean to snort.” He chuckles, lines at the edges of his eyes crinkling as he grins. Nathan opens his mouth, then closes it again. He wasted his one chance to say what he wanted, and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever have the courage or the opportunity to do it again.

“We should… um… get your stuff inside…” He says at last, nodding towards Pickles’ suitcase.

“Yeah.” Pickles agrees, picking it up. He follows Nathan into the apartment, and shuts the door behind him with a certain sense of bittersweet finality.

Magnus and Skwisgaar arrive home with food and drink, and for the first time ever, things are good for everyone all at the same time. They stay up until the crack of dawn; laughing, drinking, feeling like friends. Nobody’s at anyone else’s throat. It’s perfect.

Nathan knows it can’t last. He wishes it could, but he knows better than to hope that. Even so… Seeing Magnus and Pickles getting along is enough to give him hope that maybe someday it can last. That they’ll all fall into sync with each other and release an album that changes the world. 

Despite everything, he believes in Dethklok.

Despite everything, he believes in his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you so much if you read this beast all the way to the end. this was a months-long labor of love, and i'm really happy with how it turned out. i hope you are too! this is the longest thing i've written in years, so i hope it doesn't disappoint. (and i hope it doesn't flop *nervous laugh*) i decided to post it for nickles week, though this wasn't originally meant for it! i just thought it'd be good timing to wait and post it at the end.
> 
> anyway, thank you again for reading this, and please comment if you can! i love getting comments, and they'd mean especially a lot on this fic. i went through lots of phases being insecure abt it and then liking it. i think i'm happy with it in the end, but we'll see lol. comments are what keep me motivated to write, and i also just love to hear other people's thoughts! so i truly do hope you enjoyed this, and i hope to hear your thoughts!
> 
> thank you all so so much for being such a wonderful community. i never would have been able to finish this without the support of the magtoki discord chat, and sourbat, who was kind enough to give me concrit on the first half or so of this while it was still a work in progress! it means the world to me. i'd also like to thank my best friend and my boyfriend for always supporting me and giving me feedback as i wrote this. i love you both so much.
> 
> i think that's about it! thank you so much again, and i hope you enjoy this and anything else i write in the future!
> 
> stay brutal my friends \m/


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